


Memorial Week

by Dorothea_Greengrass



Series: Southampton [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, F/M, Fluff, Goblins, Grief/Mourning, Politics, Rebuilding, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:40:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 43,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23339284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorothea_Greengrass/pseuds/Dorothea_Greengrass
Summary: Harry and Daphne return home from their cruise around the world to a lot of problems.How will their friends and the wizarding world take the news of their marriage?What does Hermione want from Harry?And what is going on with Molly, Ginny and Ron? Will Arthur be able to interfere?
Relationships: Daphne Greengrass/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Neville Longbottom, Tracey Davis/Theodore Nott
Series: Southampton [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1667641
Comments: 20
Kudos: 152





	1. Homecoming

When we left the _Princess Isabella_ for a last time in Southampton on the first of May, the Davis family stood behind the barrier in the hall of the cruise terminal, waving at us with big smiles on their faces. Matt jumped up and down behind the barrier, and Melissa seemed to have her hands full to hold him back.

Daphne had not yet seen her relatives. She had a hard time leaving the ship that had witnessed momentous changes in our lives, and turned back ever so often to have a last look. Our good byes to Alvirah and Willy also had been tearful, but we had promised to stay in touch and let hear of us as soon as we had settled down in our new life as a married couple.

Little did my wife know that I had already booked a cruise around Europe in "our" suite for August of next year. With a little luck it would be our honeymoon, if we managed to rebuild Grenian House in time to exchange our magical vows there. Smiling to myself, I touched Daphne's arm. 'Look who's waiting for us.'

She turned around. Her eyes searched the crowd of people assembled in the hall of the cruise terminal, who apparently were all waiting to either pick up relatives who went from board today, or who were about to enter the _Princess Isabella_ for the upcoming trip to New York. Finally, she discovered the Davis'. A broad smile appeared on her face, and she raised her arm to wave back. Then she turned her head and smirked at me. 'I told you that Theo would be waiting for me in Southampton to finalise the details.'

I took another look at the Davis family. She was right: beside Davis stood a tall, young man with brown hair and light skin, his arm wrapped around Davis' waist. I wouldn't have recognised him. Nott had always been a pale and weedy child, and a bit on the small side, just like me. Apparently, he was a late bloomer and had changed a lot during the last year. He had grown quite a bit and lost his sick looks.

'I bow to your suprior knowledge of your housemate, love,' I told her while we walked to the band to pick up our luggage. 'I, for my turn, can't wait to see Melissa's face when we tell her that we're already married.'

Daphne linked arms with me as we waited for our luggage to appear. 'Yes, that'll be interesting,' she replied with an unholy grin around her lips. I couldn't blame her; Melissa had been a huge annoyance ever since we left San Francisco, and derserved everything that was coming in my book.

We picked up our luggage and left the enclosed area. Matt ran toward us, Davis and Nott followed. I noticed they were holding hands. Behind them, in a more sedate pace, walked Melissa and Matthew.

Matt threw himself into Daphne's arms. 'Daphne! I've missed you so!'

She caught him and whirled him around. 'I also missed you, you little rascal!'

He screamed with delight, but of course protested that assault on his budding male dignity. Daphne laughed and let go of him, but not without tousling his hair. He backed off, still laughing, and turned around to greet me. I gave him a high five, which seemed to please him immensely as he returned the gesture.

'So, you're still hanging around with my cousin, Harry?' he grinned.

'Yeah; and I plan on doing so for quite a long time,' I replied, while I wrapped my arm around Daphne's waist, and kissed her on the cheek.

Matt made a face. 'That's gross! I'm never going to ask a girl to marry me when I have to do that kissing stuff!'

Meanwhile, Davis and Nott had reached us. They had heard Matt's last words and joined our laughter.

'I daresay you'll like it one day,' Nott grinned.

'Never!' Matt swore, which had us laughing again.

'Bugger off, munchkin!' Davis told her little brother. It sounded affectionately. Matthew obeyed, though he poked his tongue out at his sister.

Davis stepped to Daphne and hugged her. 'Welcome back home, Daphne, and my heartfelt congratulations.' The embrace she gave Daphne looked much warmer than the stiff hug the girls had exchanged back in San Francisco, when they met for the first time after the Davis' had fled from England.

'Thank you, Tracey!' Daphne beamed.

Of course Davis' first question was to see the engagement ring, and Daphne held out her hand, beaming with pride and joy. While Tracey exclaimed over Daphne's engagement ring – we both had put a Concealment Charm on our wedding bands as a surprise for Melissa – Nott turned to me and offered me his hand. 'My congratulations, Potter. Now I finally believe everything they say about you. It takes a very courageous man to conquer the Ice Queen of Slytherin.' It was the first time I saw a genuine smile on his face when he talked to me, instead of the sneer he used to give me when he was Malfoy's sidekick at Hogwarts.

Of course I had heard about Daphne's reputation during our school days. I had even witnessed a very embarrassed Seamus Finnegan hobbling to the infirmary in our fifth year, after an encounter with my future wife. He never told us what she had done to him, but since he had been a right git to me back then, I didn't care, and had even thought of congratulating Daphne for teaching Gryffindor's self-styled Casanova a lesson that day. I made a mental note to myself to ask her what she had done to him. It would probably be good to know what I had better to avoid, if I ever got on her bad side.

'You know, I never could resist a challenge,' I deadpanned, and shook Nott's hand. 'Daphne told me congratulations are in order, too?'

His eyes flicked to Davis, and his expression became soft as he watched his fiancé. She held her left hand out to Daphne, who was admiring the emerald ring she wore.

'Yes, thank you,' he replied. He seemed to be about to say more, but by now Melissa and Matthew had caught up with us, and showered Daphne with a new round of hugs and congratulations.

Davis turned to me and offered me her hand. 'Welcome to the family, Harry. I'm so happy for Daphne and you. I don't think I've ever seen Daphne that happy. She surely deserves happiness after the losses she has suffered.'

I took her hand and kissed her knuckles, as Daphne had taught me. 'Thank you, Davis. I agree with you, and I'll do everything to keep Daphne happy. May I also offer my congratulations to your upcoming nuptials?'

She gave me a smile full of sunshine in return. 'Thank you, Harry. But please, call me Tracey. After all, we're family now.'

There was no time to answer to that, because Melissa drew me into a bear hug while I still marvelled about the changes in Davis – no, Tracey.

'Harry! I'm so happy for you and Daphne,' she beamed when she finally released me. 'I'd hoped for this to happen ever since I met you in San Francisco, and saw the way you took care of my little cousin.'

I raised my eyebrows at that. 'The contracts you sent to Daphne suggested otherwise, Melissa.' As much as I tried, I couldn't keep the irritation I still felt because of her meddling out of my voice.

She had the grace to blush. 'Well, I know how stubborn Daphne is, and wanted to give her a nudge in the right direction,' she admitted.

'You chose a rather odd way for that,' I told her, shaking my head. 'Did it never occur to you that your meddling would have quite the opposite effect on Daphne, just because she can be a trifle stubborn sometimes? She forbade me to propose for I don't know how many weeks, because she didn't want it to look as if she accepted out of pressure.'

'Oh!' Melissa's mouth went round, and she opened her eyes wide. Then she gave me a regretful look. 'Sorry, Harry. That never occurred to me.'

'I told you that pressuring Daphne was the wrong way, darling,' her husband told her, and put an arm around her shoulders. He offered me his hand. 'My congratulations, Harry. I'm happy for both of you, and relieved you followed my advice.'

'Thank you, Matthew,' I replied, shaking his hand. 'Though your advice wasn't necessary. I had already collected Daphne's first rejection when I received your letter.'

He looked as contrite as his wife at my words, I noticed with no small degree of satisfaction.

Matt saved the awkward moment. 'Can we go back home? I'm hungry!'

Melissa sighed, and tousled his hair. 'And what's new about that, mister? I swear, the first time I saw you, fresh out of my womb, you were screaming that I should feed you, and that hasn't changed over the years.'

Everyone laughed about that, much to Matt's embarrassment. We loaded our luggage onto a trolley, and went out to the parking lot in front of the building. The spring day was overcast, but thankfully it didn't rain at the moment, though puddles of water and the wet pavement in front of the building indicated that it had rained not so long ago.

Matthew and Melissa walked ahead, with Matt, Tracey, Nott, Daphne and I following them in some distance.

'Ugh, did I tell you that I hate the British climate?' Daphne said, with a disgruntled look at the grey sky, and huddled against me.

I laughed, and put my arm around her to give her more shelter from the unpleasant wind. 'Yeah, you're a typical snake in that regard. Happy and active in the warm sunshine, but grumpy at the sight of the first drop of rain, and downright unbearable as soon as the temperature drops below twenty degrees.'

Matt, Tracey and Nott laughed about that, while my wife elbowed me in the side for my cheek.

'You should've seen her in the Slytherin dorms during winter, Harry,' Tracey said. 'She always wore several layers of clothes under her robes, and looked like a walking scarecrow.'

'Impossible,' I said, and smiled down at Daphne. 'Though, I can't blame her. If the dorms are anything like the Slytherin common room, they must be a rather cold and unwelcoming place.'

Daphne gave me a kiss on my cheek in return. 'Thank you, Harry.'

Tracey's eyebrows rose up until they were almost hidden behind her brown curls. 'How do you know how the Slytherin common room looks, Harry?'

'Oh, I went there in my second year to investigate if Malfoy was the heir of Slytherin,' I replied coolly.

Tracey and Nott stopped dead in their tracks. 'You did what?!'

Matt gave me a look full of respect. 'Wicked! How did you get in, Harry?'

I knew Melissa wouldn't thank me for giving him ideas, but I told him. 'I took some Polyjuice Potion, and went into the common room in the disguise of one of Malfoy's friends.'

Tracey and Nott gave me a doubtful look. 'How did you get your hands on Polyjuice Potion, Potter?' Nott asked.

'Hermione brewed it in the bathroom of Moaning Myrtle,' I told him.

He gasped. 'In our second year?'

'Yeah; she's brilliant, isn't she?'

His eyes went wide, and he shook his head, but didn't press the matter anymore.

Beside me, Daphne chuckled quietly. Of course by now she knew about my exploits at Hogwarts, and had had a good laugh when I told her about our Polyjuice adventure in the Slytherin common room. 'I think you broke him, love,' she whispered to me with a broad grin on her face.

We had walked alongside the building while we talked, and now reached a huge parking lot next to the building. Instead of turning to a quiet corner and Apparating or Portkeying us away from there, Matthew led us to a VW T4 that stood in the middle of the parking lot.

'That's dad's newest toy,' Tracey informed us, while Matthew opened the door at the rear of the vehicle to store our luggage.

'We live in a Muggle area,' Matthew informed us as we climbed into the car. 'My mother was a Muggleborn, and I used to visit my maternal grandparents often when I was small. My grandfather used to go fishing with me, and I stuck with the hobby after he passed on. I'm a member of a Muggle fishing club in our area. It would look weird if I show up to our fishing appointments out of thin air, and would pull my shrunken equipment out of the pockets of my trousers, so I bought this car. But of course, it has some improvements.' He grinned, and pressed a button on the dashboard.

The two rows of seats in the back of the car transformed into comfortable sofas under our behinds. The middle row, where Daphne and I were sitting, made a 180 degree turn, until it faced the back row sofa, on which Tracey, Nott and Matt sat. A low coffee table appeared between the two sofas.

'Nice feature,' Nott grinned, and put an arm around Tracey's shoulder, not heeding the grimace Matt gave him.

'Yeah, I like it,' my wife laughed, and snuggled up to me.

Matt made a gagging noise, and we laughed at him.

I heard how Melissa opened the glove compartment in front of her. One look over my shoulder told me that it concealed a veritable refrigerator. She pulled a picnic hamper out of the fridge and handed it to me.

'There! That should last Matt until we're home.'

With a cry of joy Matt dug into the picnic hamper, while his father threaded his way through the tight traffic of Southampton. I noticed that, no matter how many cars were ahead of us, we inevitably ended at the top of each line waiting in front of the traffic lights, and concluded that Matthew must have equipped his car with the same feature the Ministry cars boasted. I began to wonder if it was possible to improve every Muggle car with these features.

Nott's thoughts obviously went along the same lines. 'I never would've thought that travelling with a Muggle car is this comfortable and fast,' he remarked, opening a bottle of butterbeer. We had just reached the outskirts of Southampton, and Matthew was about to enter the M3.

'Yeah,' I agreed, accepting the bottle he offered me. 'I wonder if it's possible to do something like that with every Muggle car. I always wanted a car, but I'm not fond of standing in traffic jams.'

'It is,' Matthew told me over his shoulder. 'If you want to buy a Muggle car, Harry and Theo, I'll help you to make the changes.'

'Thank you, sir, that's very generous of you,' Nott said, and I echoed his thanks.

I shared a look with Daphne. 'What do you think, love?'

She gave me an amused smile. 'I'd rather join you in a ride in a sports car than in a ride on a racing broom, so I say go for it.'

Tracey raised an eyebrow. 'You never seemed like the sports car type to me, Harry.'

Daphne snorted at that. 'You don't know him, Tracey. This one's an adrenaline junkie, if I've ever met one. Higher, faster – you get the picture. He even went diving with sharks a couple of weeks ago.'

'You're taking the mickey, Daphne. No one's that idiotic,' Tracey replied with a snort.

'She's not,' I confirmed Daphne's words.

Tracey paled, while Nott gave me an impressed glance.

'Wicked!' Matt breathed. The hero worship in his eyes became even more pronounced. Melissa would want to have my hide for that one day, I was sure.

'Wasn't that extremely dangerous?' Melissa asked, turning around, and giving me a concerned look.

'Not at all,' I placated her. 'I was in a strong iron cage, and the beasts could never get at me.'

'All the same,' Melissa replied, still sounding concerned. 'I wish you wouldn't do such dangerous things, now that you're about to start a family.'

Daphne and I shared a look. Daphne smirked at me. 'I went with him on that excursion, Melissa,' she said sweetly.

Melissa let out a cry of dismay, while Tracey and Nott grinned broadly at us.

'You really know how to get back at mum,' Tracey whispered. 'Did you really enter that cage?'

Daphne shook her head, while I mouthed at Tracey, 'She stayed on board. Daphne's terrified of sharks.'

'Smart girl,' Nott grinned. 'What else did you do while you were on that cruise around the world?'

For the rest of the drive, we regaled them with our adventures. Tracey and Matt perked up as we told them about our surfing trip on Hawaii.

'I always wanted to go surfing as we lived in California,' Matt exclaimed, and his sister nodded to that.

'Me, too,' she admitted. 'Unfortunately, it never came to that. The money dad, mum and I managed to make with odd jobs while we hid in the Muggle world was barely enough to pay for the necessities. We didn't dare to go into the magical world, and had no access to our savings.'

I startled at her words. It never had occurred to me that the unpleasant demeanour she had shown in San Francisco might be due to constant sorrows about how to make a living for the family.

Nott confirmed my thoughts. He pulled his fiancé closer to him and dropped a kiss on her head. 'At least you don't have to worry about that anymore, love.'

'Maybe we all can go surfing one day,' Daphne suggested. 'I've been told there are some good surf spots in Cornwall.'

While Tracey and Matt agreed enthusiastically to that, Nott looked doubtful, yet intrigued.

'You look less than thrilled, Nott,' I observed under the cover of Matt's chatter.

He gave a helpless shrug. 'Don't get me wrong, Potter. It surely sounds like a lot of fun, but – I can't swim. Purebloods usually don't enter in Muggle activities. My father would've flagellated me, had I ever expressed a desire to exercise Muggle sports.' His face was calm, but the slight quiver in his voice betrayed a feeling of resentment, and his eyes didn't meet mine.

'I couldn't swim, either, when I started the cruise,' I told him. 'Daphne showed me how to do it. She loves every sport done in and on the water. Maybe she'll consent teaching you how to swim, too.'

Nott looked surprised at that revelation. Apparently, he didn't know that detail about his former house mate. I knew from Daphne that she had never shared many details about her life with her house mates.

'That'd be nice,' he answered. However, we couldn't continue our conversation. Matthew left the M25, and turned south toward Royal Tunbridge Wells.

'We'll be home in another ten minutes,' he announced.

I looked at my wristwatch: not even one hour had passed. Uncle Vernon often had had business in this area while I still had to live with my relatives. From his complaints I knew damned well that the drive from Southampton to Royal Tunbridge Wells took at least two hours, given there wasn't any traffic jam. Now I was really curious to learn how Matthew had modified his Muggle VW bus.

I was pulled out of my musings by my wife, who began to show me the landmarks of her home county. Daphne had told me that Grenian House, the ancestral home of the Greengrass family, was near Royal Tunbridge Wells in Kent. I was still amazed that she grew up not even an hour away from me by car. Traditionally, the other family members settled down around Grenian House. The Davis' were no exception to that: Melissa and Matthew had bought a house in Royal Tunbridge Wells after they had returned from the States.

Not even ten minutes later, as he had promised, Matthew pulled the VW bus to a stop in front of a narrow-breasted Victorian terraced house on York Street that was painted in a cheerful vanilla yellow, with white shutters.

We all filed out of the car, happy to stretch our legs. The weather had brightened; odd rays of sunshine made their way through the clouds that weren't as dense anymore as they had been in Southampton. Melissa led us the few steps up to the front entrance. The house looked small from the outside, but that was deceiving. Each floor boasted two well lit, spacious rooms.

After we had refreshed ourselves, Melissa ushered us to the spacious dining room left of the entrance. A festive looking table was set in front of the ornate fireplace, and decked with Melissa's finest porcelain and silverware, glinting festively in a beam of sunshine that had found its way through the broad bow window that looked out on York Street. The delicious fragrance of a slow cooked roast permeated the air, and I realised that I was hungry.

Daphne and I had had a rather early breakfast that morning, "before even the birds are up", as my wife complained, and then made sure we had everything packed before we put our luggage in front of the entrance door of our suite, so that the crew could take it from board as soon as we arrived in Southampton. We had to leave our suite after that, and spent the time until the _Princess Isabella_ reached Southampton in the Atrium, together with the Meehans. Though we would have loved to watch the coast of England coming nearer, that experience was prevented by frequent showers of rain, and Daphne an Alvirah's outright refusal to go outside. We had reached Southampton around noon, and by now it was well after lunch time. No wonder my stomach made appreciative little flipflops when my brain registered the smell of roast.

Matthew opened a bottle of champagne and filled our glasses. 'Let's toast to the two young couples amidst us,' he said, raising his glass. 'May your life together be filled with happiness and love.'

'To happiness and love,' we echoed.

Melissa and Tracey then vanished into the kitchen that was on the ground floor, just as at my house on Grimmauld Place. They returned a few minutes later, conducting a line of plates and bowls filled with delicious looking – and smelling – food with their wands.

We enjoyed a wonderful meal. Melissa's cooking could give Mrs Weasley's a run for her money. I told her that, and she looked pleased, albeit she said, 'Tracey was a big help in all the preparations.'

'Lucky you,' Tracey told her fiancé without a hint of false modesty. 'In contrary to me, Daphne can't cook. Poor Harry is in for an unpleasant surprise if he ever lets her near a stove.'

Daphne wasn't fazed by that. 'Yeah, it's really fortunate that Harry is a master cook, considering that I'll even burn water. However, he offered to teach me. Maybe there's hope for me, after all.'

'Good luck with that,' Tracey chuckled, and took a sip of her wine. 'Did she tell you that I had to do all the cutting during our Potions classes? Daphne can't hold a knife without cutting herself.'

I joined the laughter that followed that remark. 'I know; she told me in Saigon when we booked that cookery course. Our teacher and I had to do most of the cooking, while Daphne afterwards did most of the eating.'

'Hey, I resent that!' my wife exclaimed, and gave me an idignant slap on the arm, but nevertheless joined the laughter at her expense.

Nott, however, raised an eyebrow at me. 'You can cook, Potter? Our house elves never let me near the kitchen. How did you learn to cook, then?'

'I didn't grow up in the magical world, but with my Muggle relatives,' I informed him over the lip of my wine glass. 'It's quite common for Muggle children to help with household chores.' There was no need to tell him I had been little more than a house elf to my relatives.

As if sensing my thoughts, Daphne put her hand on mine and gave me a small smile. I smiled back, thankful for her support. Though six months of therapy had helped me to leave the past behind me, I still struggled when the memories of my time with the Dursleys were sprung at me like this.

Nott looked taken aback. 'You grew up with Muggles?' he exclaimed. 'I had no idea, but of course that explains a lot.'

Tracey nodded to that.

Now it was my turn to look puzzled. 'Care to explain that cryptic remark, Nott?'

He gave me an apologetic look. 'Well, after your parents had been killed, Dumbledore took it upon himself to find a new home for you. You know his reputation, Potter, so you'll understand why nobody questioned his decision, or why the magical world just accepted his declaration that he'd brought you to a safe place.'

Daphne's nostrils flared at that, but she didn't interject.

'Well, of course no one ever would've thought that the Boy-Who-Lived grew up among Muggles. People just assumed that you'd been given to a magical family that lived very secluded, and sheltered you from the fame. People didn't take it kindly when you turned up in the magical world ten years later, and seemed to trample all over our traditions,' Nott went on.

'I had no idea. Nobody ever taught me a thing about magical traditions. Maybe I should've thought about that myself, but most of my schoolyears I was somehow distracted with just trying to stay alive,' I replied. 'At least Daphne has brought me up to par.'

'Yeah, and I can tell you, it wasn't easy,' my wife interjected, trying to light up the mood, and also trying to steer the conversation away from my upbringing. I gave her a small, thankful smile, and she winked at me. 'You won't believe how many times this lump stepped on my feet during the dance classes,' she told Nott and Tracey dramatically.

Nott gave me an amused look over the rim of his glass. 'You took dance classes, Potter?'

'Daphne forced me to,' I replied, mock-glaring at my wife, while I cut my meat.

That had everyone laugh, and of course they wanted to hear more about the tortures I had endured while Daphne tutored me in wizarding traditions.

After the excellent meal, Melissa invited us to have coffee in the parlour on the first floor. When we filed out of the dining room, Daphne stayed behind, and motioned to Nott to stay with her. Melissa and Matthew shared a wistful smile, while Tracey suddenly looked anxious.

I touched her arm and held her back. 'Don't worry, I think they'll come to an agreement.'

She didn't look convinced. 'I know that Daphne gave her agreement to our betrothal as my head of house, but I also know that I can't expect the customary dowry from her. After we returned from the USA, we heard how bad the war has been for the economy of the magical world. Dad got his job back, but he had to accept a much smaller pay because the tax revenue is so low, and the Ministry can't afford to pay the wages they paid before the war.' She bit her lip. 'Theo's also not as well off as the Notts used to be. His father squandered huge amounts of money to support that monster, and what was left was conviscated by the Ministry. Theo has to make due with what he inherited from his mother. It isn't much, and we both don't have our N.E.W.T.s, due to the war, so we can't get a good job. The Nott family business also is into shambles: nobody wants to deal with the son of a Death Eater. Poor Theo has to built up everything from scratch. We want to get married soon so badly, but I'm afraid we'll have to wait until we have the means to support ourselves.'

Daphne and I had discussed the problem of Tracey's dowry during our last days on board. Tracey was right; even though the business of Greengrass Shipping was slowly getting better, and Daphne had the income from her mother's trust, it didn't cover half of the dowry Tracey could rightfully expect as her share of the family fortune. I had told Daphne to offer Nott the customary dowry; I would cover for it. A thankful Nott who was indebted to Daphne made a good alley for the Neutral Faction. She hadn't been happy to have to accept money from me for her family, but in the end her practical Slytherin sense won, and she agreed, especially after I had pointed out that she would already be a Potter when the negotiations about the dowry took place, so technically _our_ money would be used to secure the future of _our_ family. She had given me a heart-melting smile when I told her that, and then kissed me until I almost forgot my name.

We sat down in the elegant parlour. It was directly above the dining room, and also boasted a bow window. Glass paned double doors led into an adjoining parlour.

Melissa served coffee, and we made small talk. Tracey, however, didn't join our conversation. She stepped to the bow window and looked down on the street, nervously wringing her hands. I couldn't blame her: if her and Nott's financial situation was as strained as she told me, their immediate future depended on the offer Daphne would make them. Not for the first time in my life I sent thankful thoughts to Grandfather Fleamont for providing that well for me. Thanks to him I had an independence only very few people on this planet could enjoy.

Of course, Melissa was curious to know if Daphne and I had already set a date for the wedding. Her question startled me out of my musings.

'You know that Daphne wants to get married at Grenian House in the summer,' I told her. 'I have no idea when Daphne will be able to rebuilt the house. She estimated a couple of years.'

Melissa's cup stopped midway between the saucer and her mouth. 'You can't be serious,' she exclaimed, and I had already my usual answer "No, I'm Harry!'" at the tip of my tongue, when the door opened, and Daphne and Nott entered the room. They both had a smile on their faces.

The triumphant gleam in my wife's eyes told me that Nott had agreed to all of her demands. I took her hand when she sat down beside me, and kissed her on the cheek in congratulation.

Nott walked over to the bow window and wrapped his arms around Tracey, whispering into her ear. Tracey's eyes went wide while she listened to him, and then a look of genuine happiness and thankfulness appeared on her face I would never have expected to see. She threw her arms around Nott and kissed him deeply. Then she whirled around and ran to Daphne. Laughing and crying, she hugged my wife.

Daphne patted her back. 'Shh, it's alright, Tracey!' I could see how touched she was by Tracey's emotions.

However, it took some time until Tracey regained her composure. She walked back to Nott, who still stood beside the bow window and had watched her all the time with the expression of a love-sick puppy. I was familiar with that expression: I had worn it on my wedding day, and probably still wore it each time I looked at Daphne. She took his hand. 'Now we can think of getting married and both finishing our education together,' she smiled at him. 'Before your generous offer, Daphne, it would've been Theo's turn first, while I earned the money, and then mine.'

My wife gave me a small push. Reacting to my cue, I cleared my throat. 'Actually, that's something Daphne and I also still have to do,' I told them. 'We thought of hiring private tutors. I already wrote to Headmistress McGonagall for recommendations, and she agreed to talk to us after the Memorial Service. You're welcomed to join us in our studies.'

Tracey and Nott looked at each other, then beamed at us. 'Thank you, that's very generous of you.'

Their thankfulness made me uncomfortable. 'Well, the more, the merrier,' I replied, while I slowly turned red.

Daphne put her hand on my arm and grinned. 'What Harry means is, if you're studying with us, I won't focus solely on him and nag him all the time to do better.'

Of course, that caused a lot of laughter at my expense.

We talked some more, until Daphne said, 'I think it's time that Harry and I head home.'

Melissa gave an uneasy look to her husband, while Tracey and Nott both grinned, obviously enjoying that Daphne had challenged her yet another time.

'We've prepared the guest bedroom for you, dear,' Melissa told my wife.

Daphne gave her a mischievous glance. 'That's very friendly of you, Melissa, but I think I prefer to stay with my husband.'

'Your… what?!' Melissa stared at us, her mouth hanging open. I never would have thought a Pureblood witch - and a Slytherin on top of that - would lose her composure that completely.

Daphne took my hand, and smiled at her sweetly. 'Harry and I got married on board yesterday.'

She still stared at us for almost another half minute. Then she jumped up, whooping with joy, and pulled Daphne into a hug that almost crushed her. 'That's wonderful, Daphne; I'm so happy for you.' She released my wife, only to turn around to me, and crush me in an equally fierce hug.

The rest of her family and Nott followed suit with their congratulations, and Matthew brought out the champagne once more.

Melissa laughed at Daphne over the rim of her glass. 'You did this on purpose, didn't you?' She gestured towards our rings. We had cancelled the Concealment Charms as soon as Daphne had dropped the bomb.

'Of course,' Daphne laughed. 'We thought some payback was in order after the way you pestered us ever since that article came out.'

Melissa had the grace to blush, while the rest of her family laughed.

It was rather late when we finally made our goodbyes, and not before Melissa, Daphne and Tracey went through the most important details for the two upcoming weddings they had to plan. Nott and I shared a look, and all of a sudden I felt a solidarity towards the Slytherin I wouldn't have thought possible only a year ago. Matthew, catching our glances, chuckled quietly.

* * *

I Apparated Daphne and me to the small garden in the middle of Grimmauld Square, our shrunken luggage in my pocket.

'Harry Potter lives at Grimauld Place number twelve,' I told her.

She looked puzzled. 'You already told me you live in London, so why...' she began, then interrupted herself. 'Did your house just appear between number eleven and number thirteen, or had I one drink too many?'

I laughed, and took her hand to lead her to the entrance. 'There's nothing wrong with your eyes, love. The house is unplottable and under a Fidelius Charm. I'm the secret keeper. You wouldn't have found it before I told you the secret, even if you'd been standing right in front of it.'

With Professor Flitwick's help, I had taken down the old Fidelius Charm. After Dumbledore's death each member of the Order who had been told the location of the house had become secret keeper, plus the twins, Ron, Hermione and me. We had inadvertedly added to that circle of people when we took Yaxley into the sphere of the charm. The Death Eaters had taken advantage of that: there hadn't been one piece of furniture left intact when Kreacher and I returned to the house after I had left the Burrow, not to mention that everything that was halfway valuable was missing from the house. I wasn't too fond of an open house, so I put up a new Fidelius Charm, with myself as the secret keeper.

Daphne gave me an appraising side glance as we walked across the square. 'Is it still necessary for you to stay hidden?'

I shrugged. 'I'm probably slightly paranoid, but fact is, there are still a number of Death Eaters on the run who'd like to kill me for finishing off their Dark Wanker. I can sleep better that way at night.'

She didn't comment on that, but a slight frown had appeared on her face.

We had reached the entrance, and the door opened wide when I tapped my wand against it. Daphne let out a small shriek when I picked her up and carried her over the threshold.

'Welcome to your new home, Mrs Potter.'

'You're such a sap,' she informed me, but nevertheless put her arms around my neck, and kissed me until my toes curled.

A resounding CRACK brought us back to the real world. The next moment, a small missile, clad in a pristine tea towel, hurled itself at me and hugged me around my knees.

'Master is back! Kreacher is so happy!' my ancient house elf croaked in his bullfrog voice.

I lowered Daphne back to the ground, mindful not to hurt Kreacher, who still was pressed against my knees as close as possible.

'Thank you, Kreacher, I'm also happy to see you,' I told him, and patted his head. 'I want you to meet someone.'

Kreacher raised his head and looked at me. I motioned with my hand at Daphne. 'Kreacher, this is my wife, Daphne.'

A glow of sheer happiness appeared on Kreacher's ugly face. 'Kreacher has a mistress again!' he croaked, and then hurled himself at Daphne.

Thankfully, Daphne had grown up with house elves, and was used to the overexited little creatures. 'I'm also happy to meet you, Kreacher,' she said. 'Harry told me so much about you.'

Kreacher looked up at her with a look of purest adoration that made me stiffle a laugh. 'Mistress bes too good to a lowly house elf! What can Kreacher do for mistress? Does mistress want dinner, or does mistress want tea, or…'

'Tea would be wonderful,' Daphne smiled at him, and patted him once more. 'We'll have a light dinner after Harry has shown me around.'

'Tea will be ready in a second,' Kreacher promised.

'We'll come down into the kitchen as soon as I've introduced Daphne to Grandpa Fleamont,' I informed him.

The next moment, Kreacher was gone.

I grabbed Daphne's hand and led her farther into the house. She looked around appreciatively.

'This is the old Black residence, isn't it? I've heard stories during my childhood how horrible dark it was; even the most bigotted Purebloods from my parent's circles weren't as obsessed as Walburga Black and her husband, and made fun of their obsession with everything Slytherin. I expected a much darker place, but nothing this cheerful and bright. You must have strapped the house of everything, down to the bare walls, and then started from scratch.'

'Almost,' I agreed. 'The Death Eaters have paid a visit to the house during the war. They knew it was my hideaway, so they destroyed everything they found, or stole it. Kreacher and I swept out the rubble when we returned after the war. Since we already were at it, we thought we as well could do it right, and removed everything down to the bare stones.'

Kreacher and I had done a thoroughly job with the renovation. The old, dingy hall was hardly recognisable to anyone who had visited the house during the days of the war. We had pulled down the dark wallpaper, and replaced it with a warm, honey coloured one, and added white accents where the walls joined the ceiling. The brass scones and door handles in forms of snakes had been transfigured by Kreacher and me into puristic and modern looking ones, made of brushed brass, after a picture I had found in a magazine about interior decor. We had installed a skylight into the rooftop that provided the staircase and the hallways of the house with natural light. Last but not least, the painting of Walburga Black was gone. I had spent a whole day chiseling out the wall her painting was magically glued to the Muggle way, ever so often renewing the strong Silencing Charm I had to put on her to prevent her screams from deafening me, but it had been worth it.

The place of honour was now taken up by the magical painting of my grandfather Fleamont Potter, the one I had found in my family vault on my eighteenth birthday, when I had learned about my inheritance. From his place at the wall to the library he had a look at the wall above the staircase. Kreacher and I had buried the heads of the former Black house elves in a secluded spot of the back yard, and then decorated the wall at Grandfather Fleamont's request - or rather demand - with his collection of contemporary Muggle art paintings that had been stowed away in the family vault. Contemporary to his time, that is. Grandfather's pride was a painting of Picasso that Kreacher and I had put on the wall directly opposite of his magical painting, so that he could look at it as often as he wanted.

'Well, lad, it's good to see you back,' Grandfather Fleamont smiled as Daphne and I walked up to him hand in hand. 'Won't you introduce me to the lovely lady beside you?'

I was happy to oblige. 'Daphne, meet my grandfather, Fleamont Potter. Grandpa, this is my wife Daphne Potter, nee Greengrass.'

Grandpa Fleamont roared with laughter. 'So, you went out for a world cruise to get rid of your boredom, and return with a wife barely four months later? You're such a Gryffindor!' He gave my wife an appreciative look. 'Welcome to the family, my dear. So, you're a Greengrass? There was an Albion Greengrass a few years below me during my time at Hogwarts. He played as beater on the Slytherin team since my sixth year, but he surely wasn't as beautiful as you are.'

I should have known that the old ladykiller couldn't resist to flirt with my wife.

'That would've been my grandfather,' Daphne replied. 'It's nice to meet you, too, sir.'

We had a little chat with Grandpa Fleamont, who of course was curious to hear how we had met, and why we got married after only a few months into knowing each other. With the hint that it was getting late, and the promise to have a long chat with him one of these days, I managed to extricate Daphne and me from him.

'It's uncanny how much you Potter men look alike,' Daphne said as we walked down the stairs to the kitchen. 'I've seen pictures of your father; you have all three the same black and untameable hair, and glasses. Only the colour of your eyes is differently. Your grandfather had brown eyes, your father's were hazel, and yours are green. Other than that, it's hard to tell you apart.'

'However, if you ask Grandfather Fleamont, he'd tell you he's the best looking of us,' I replied as I opened the door to the kitchen for her.

Daphne laughed at that, and entered the kitchen. She stopped to have a look around. 'I like this room.'

Kreacher and I had replaced the floor in the kitchen with a gleaming, honey-coloured hardwood floor, and had painted the walls in a warm vanilla. I had ordered a gas-operated, fire-engine red AGA stove for the kitchen, and sturdy cabinets in a creamy white colour. Kreacher had gone to Diagon Alley and bought an array of copper cauldrons, pots and pans, and other kitchen utensils he arranged below the cabinets and above the stove. The window sill now housed Kreacher's lovingly cared for small jungle of kitchen herbs in stoneware pots. A long, white scrubbed table, and an assortment of mismatching chairs, all painted a creamy white and decorated with colourful cushions, made the kitchen an amazingly warm and cheerful room.

'Well, as with the rest of the house, there also wasn't much left of the old kitchen after the the Death Eaters paid their visit,' I told her. 'The kitchen has been reduced to a heap of firewood by them, and shards of glass and porcellain, with the odd dented or even molten pot or pan thrown in. Kreacher and I started our renovating job with Vanishing everything that was in the room, which included the chipped tiled floor, and the wooden panels at the back of the room. You can't imagine my amazement when I found a double door to a forgotten family room hidden behind them.'

I took her by the hand and led her to the glass paned double door that connected the kitchen with the family room.

'It was filled up to the rafters with the most charming furniture from the Georgian area,' I went on as I opened the door. 'Good luck had it that nothing was cursed, so Kreacher and I restored the furniture and used it for the kitchen and the family room.'

The family room was painted in the same warm vanilla colour as the kitchen, and the ornate stucco of the fireplace that dominated the room was painted a creamy white. I had found an oriental carpet in my family vault that fitted in nicely. I then had splurged on a huge, burgundy red leather sofa with a matching glass coffee table I placed in front of the fireplace. Kreacher replaced the upholstery of the window seat to match the sofa, while I spurned curtains in favour of the light from the garden streaming into the room. Lots of cushions and blankets, and a pair of the discarded Georgian overstuffed chairs, and end tables, lovingly restaurated by Kreacher and then decorated with lamps and photos of my parents and grandparents in silver frames - all taken from the Potter Family Vault - made the room a cosy haven for relaxing evenings in front of a merrily crackling fire.

I led Daphne to the bow window at the end of the room. From there, a door led onto a small, sunken patio at the back of the house. It was furnished with a table and a couple of chairs, and I had put up a Muggle barbecue grill there. Kreacher had cooked our meals there while we waited for the kitchen stove being delivered. I pointed to the unkempt backyard that stretched out for another thirty yards behind the patio.

'You said you love gardening, don't you? Well, I haven't yet come around to put the garden back to order. What do you think of making that our project for the summer?'

Daphne squealed with delight, and hugged me.

We then settled down on the sofa. I let my wand slip out of my holster and lit the fire in the fireplace with a silent charm. We had barely sat down when Kreacher bustled over and served us tea and small cakes.

'It's wonderful, Kreacher, just the way I like it,' Daphne told the expectantly waiting elf after her first sip.

Kreacher's ugly face beamed like the sun. 'Mistress bes so good to poor Kreacher,' he mumbled rather watery, and returned to the kitchen.

Daphne snuggled up to me while we sipped our tea. 'It feels somehow strange to be back in England. Just imagine, tomorrow we'll still be in the same place, instead of entering a new port.'

We both chuckled at that. To be honest, during the last week we both had become slightly travel-weary. There was so much going on in our lives, so many unresolved problems waiting for us to tackle them, that we both were secretly relieved when the end of the cruise got nearer.

'You'll feel as if you're back for ages within a week, considering everything we'll have on our agenda during the next days,' I told her.

She made a face at that. 'You're probably right. What do you think, can we squeeze in a visit at Gringotts? Theo at once agreed to all of my demands. In return, he only asked that he and Tracey can marry as soon as possible. Obviously, they aren't planning on a big wedding, just the immediate family, and you and me. Theo's parents are both dead, and just like me he has no uncles or aunts. I promised him to talk with the goblins about the necessary arrangements this week.'

That suited me just fine. My goblin advisors had more or less ordered me to a visit at Gringotts the upcoming week, but I had planned on that, anyway. Daphne needed to be included into the Potter vaults, and we also needed to talk to the goblins about proper wards for Grenian House.

'What about Wednesday, after the awards ceremony?' I asked back.

'Sounds fine to me,' Daphne agreed, stiffling a yawn. 'Gosh, I'm knackered. Will you show me the rest of the house before I fall asleep in front of the fire?'

I snorted, but got to my feet and hauled her up.

'The layout of the house is the common layout for a terraced house,' I told her as we climbed up the stairs back to the ground floor. 'A long hallway, and two or three rooms on each floor. Kitchen and family room are on the lower ground floor. Below that is a cellar. At the moment, it's a huge, unused space. The boiler room is down there, and Kreacher has his bedroom next to it, since he refused to sleep in one of the bedrooms of the house I offered to him.'

'You don't know much about house elves, do you, love? They need dark, confined spaces to feel safe at night. They'd be terrified in a normal bedroom,' my wife taught me.

'Thanks for the lecture in Magical Creatures,' I grinned, and then went on with my tour of the house. 'The library and the dining room are supposed to be on the ground floor, with two reception rooms on the first floor.'

Daphne arched her delicate brows at that. 'Supposed to?'

I scratched my neck. 'Well, as I told you, we had that little problem with the Death Eater visit. Kreacher and I simply Vanished the rubble in each room, put in new floors and wallpaper, and left it at that. So far, only the kitchen, the family room and my bedroom are fully furnished. But see for yourself.' I pulled open the door to the former library, and guided her inside the room.

'Indeed, the room is a trifle sparsely decorated,' Daphne deadpanned.

There was nothing left of the unique Black collection of books about the dark arts. The Death Eaters had shred them to confetti, and I hadn't bothered to restore them. Hermione probably would have my head for that, had she known. Kreacher and I had put a dark coloured hardwood floor into the room, and a bright yellow wallpaper on the walls, that both emphasised the fireplace made of green marble. The huge bow window looked on the square, and let in a lot of light after Kreacher finally had removed the grime of decades.

I put my arm around Daphne's shoulders. 'I hope you like house decorating, love. I'm pants at it.'

She grinned at me, an excited gleam in her eyes. 'I'd say you did a very good job with the kitchen and the family room, Harry. But I'm happy that there's still some work left to do for me. That will make it my house, too, instead of simply moving in your house.'

'Be careful what you wish for, love,' I quipped, and kissed her. She understood what I meant when I showed her the bare dining room, and then the two reception rooms on the first floor that were as bare.

The former Tapestry Room on the first floor had also undergone a complete change. Just like with Ol' Wally's portrait, I had had to remove the tapestry with Muggle means. Kreacher and I had then connected the Tapestry Room and the adjoining parlour with a pair of double doors. The effort had been worth it. The double doors joined two pleasantly sized, light flooded reception rooms, that both boasted an ornate fireplace. There was also a small room on this floor I used as a study. It was furnished with just the essentials: a desk, a chair and a shelf where I kept ink and parchment.

Daphne scrunched her nose quite adorably. 'Indeed, there's room for improvement here.'

I pulled her with me to the next floor. 'At least our bedroom is fully furnished. You won't have to do anything there.'

But when I opened the door to the master bedroom, Daphne stopped right in her tracks. 'You're joking, Harry, aren't you?'

I had no idea what she was talking about. I had spend a long time and a lot of money on decorating the master bedroom. The huge fourposter bed in the middle of the room looked just as my bed in the Gryffindor dorms. The curtains on the huge windows that overlooked Grimmauld Place matched the scarlett bedcurtains and the scarlet and gold stripped wallpaper. Armchairs that reminded me of the chairs in the Gryffindor common room made a small seating area in front of the window. The floor was covered with a fluffy carpet in a soft gold, with a couple of red patterned rugs scattered about it. I had no wardrobe; there was a huge walk-in closet next to the ensuite bathroom.

My confusion must have shown on my face, because my wife smiled at me with a small shake of her head. 'The room is decorated in Gryffindor colours, love.'

'Oh!' I paused. 'You don't like them, do you?'

She shook her head. 'No, I don't. They're so - brassy. While I like bright colours, the combination of scarlett and gold is a little too much.'

'Well, you won't see much of them when you're asleep,' I tried. 'And we'll probably can think of something to distract you from the colours when we're in here.'

As I had expected, that earned me a soft slap on my arm for my cheek. 'Prat,' she said, and I grinned.

Daphne continued looking at the room with a slight frown. 'We won't have to change everything. For example, we can keep the red and gold colour scheme, but mute it down somehow, so that the colours aren't that shrill,' she mused. She looked up at me, a hopeful and pleading expression on her face. 'What do you think, love?'

Of course, she knew that I could never resist that look. 'Alright,' I agreed, and was rewarded with a blinding smile, and a hug and a kiss that made me think I would happily give in to all her wishes if it got me kisses like this one.

We continued our sightseeing tour through the house. There was an additional bedroom on this floor, but it was completely bare, down to the stone walls. The three bedrooms on the third floor were the same. I also hadn't changed the old bathroom up there, and Daphne grimaced at the grimy looking tiles, and the reptilian feet of the bathtub. The fourth floor had two additional bedrooms, and a shared bathroom. The twins and Remus had stayed up here when the house was used by the Order of the Phoenix, I remembered.

However, the fourth floor contained another surprise of the house that had been hidden away by Ol' Wally and her abysmal taste of interior decoration. The second bedroom and the hallway opened onto a small, walled in patio. Beyond the patio was a conservatory that covered the width of the house and looked over the garden, though we couldn't see much of that since dusk was falling rapidly. A narrow, winding iron stair led from the patio to a rooftop terrace atop of the bedrooms.

Daphne let out a small squeal of delight when I showed the conservatory to her.

'It was completely boarded up when Kreacher and I came up here,' I told her. 'Apparently, Walburga Black didn't like to sit in a conservatory on sunny, yet cold days. We repaired the broken window panes, but other than that we haven't done much up here.'

My wife looked around. 'This is a wonderful place to relax. The bedroom that opens onto the patio would make a nice shared study for us. We could put potted plants into the patio and the conservatory, and furnish the conservatory with a table and chairs. We can have our tea there whenever it's too cold to sit outside. What do you think?'

I wrapped my arms around her, and dropped a kiss on her head. 'That sounds lovely.'

Daphne returned my hug, but it was clear to me that she was distracted, obviously already planning the decoration of our joined study, the patio and the conservatory in detail in her head. I had to admit I was looking forward to see Daphne's touch on the house. There was no doubt that it would be a great improvement to the way the house looked under Walburga Black's care.

We were pulled out of our musings by Kreacher, who apparated right beside us.

'Dinner is ready, mistress!' he announced with an adoring look at Daphne.

'Thank you, Kreacher. We'll be down in a minute.'

'Yes, misstress,' Kreacher replied happily, and apparated away.

Daphne and I exchanged an amused smile. 'You've made a conquest there,' I informed her. 'It took years until he accepted me.'

My wife flipped her hair over her shoulder and gave me a mock-haughty look. 'Well, love, you don't have my dazzling beauty, and my sophisticated demeanour.'

'Yeah, right,' I deadpanned. 'Not to mention your modesty.' Of course, that earned me a slap on the arm, and we broke out into laughter.

We were still laughing when we entered the kitchen and sat down for the delicious meal Kreacher had prepared for us. However, our mood changed during dinner. We both became silent and pensive when our thoughts turned to the day ahead of us.

'I'm afraid of tomorrow,' my wife admitted, her finger circling the rim of her glass. 'I don't know if I can hold it together when Mum and Dad's names are read out.'

I reached across the table and covered her free hand with mine. 'You're not alone there, love. I'm with you all the time. Besides that, everyone who's attending the Memorial Service will be troubled. We've all lost people we love in the wars.'

She nodded at that, but it didn't seem to help with her inner turmoil, and she kept being silent and withdrawn for the rest of the day.

_t.b.c._


	2. Sunday, May 2nd 1999

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Xavras for editing this chapter, even though he had had a day from hell and was in pains on top of it. You rock!
> 
> As always, any errors that remain are mine.

With the emotional turmoil of the Memorial Service looming over us, neither Daphne nor I slept well on our first night back in England. We woke up at dawn, both feeling unrested and on pins and needles, so we decided to take a long run through a nearby park.

Today, one year had passed since I took Voldemort's Killing Curse in the Forbidden Forest and survived against all odds, I thought as we circled the small pond in the middle of the park. However, I didn't feel like celebrating my second birthday, but instead thought of everyone close to me I had lost because of that monster - my parents, Sirius, Remus, Fred, and not to forget Hedwig. I was probably an idiot to mourn a familiar, but I still missed her dearly.

When we turned up in the kitchen almost two hours later, Kreacher waited for us with a lovingly prepared breakfast. Neither of us was able to do it justice, and so we just sipped our tea, and nibbled on a piece of toast, though mine tasted like cardboard to me. It was almost a relief when it was finally time to get ready for the Memorial Service.

For the first time in months Daphne and I dressed in formal robes. It was a strange feeling to be wrapped from head to toe into masses of rich, flowing fabric. Daphne almost looked like a stranger in the high-necked, dark blue, traditional dress robes of Acrumantula silk she had chosen. They had no embellishments, and with her hair pulled back in a plain, tight bun at the nape of her head she looked like a nun.

'You look strange,' she told me, eying my charcoal grey robes. 'I'm not used to you wearing robes anymore.'

'Funny, I just thought the same about you, love,' I replied, and took her by the arm to lead her downstairs.

As we stepped out of the house, I silently cast a Notice-Me-Not Charm on us, so that our Muggle neighbours wouldn't be tempted to call the police at the sight of a strange young couple in weird clothes. The area around Grimmauld Place had changed a lot since I first came here in the summer before my fifth year, almost four years ago. Most of the houses had been sold to young, high-earning professionals, and the houses as well as the place had undergone a massive transformation. What once had been a rather dingy and unsavory area of London was now a sought-after residential quarter, with well maintained houses and clean streets, and expensive German cars parked in front of the houses, but thankfully with nothing of the uniformity of Privet Drive.

We hid behind a bush in the nowadays well-kept garden of the square, and I Apparated us to the front gates of Hogwarts. We weren't the first to arrive. Ahead of us a stream of dark clad wizards and witches walked down to the Black Lake. Behind us we could hear the sounds of more Apparitions.

Hagrid stood at the gates, dressed in his hairy, brown suit. He beamed all over his rugged face when he saw me.

''arry, good to see yer,' he boomed, and the next moment I disappeared between his arms that caught me in a rib-cracking hug. He let go of me and gave me a long look, holding me at arm's length. 'Yer lookin' good, 'arry. Better than I've ever seen yer.'

'It's also good to see you, Hagrid,' I replied, as soon as I could breathe again. I turned around and grabbed Daphne's hand. 'You've got to thank Daphne for that. Daphne, may I present you Hagrid, my first friend in the wizarding world? Hagrid, this is my wife, Daphne Potter.'

Hagrid's eyes got wide. 'Now, that's a serprise,' he exclaimed. Before Daphne knew what happened to her, she was on the receiving end of a hug from Hagrid. 'My congratulations to both of ye,' he smiled.

Daphne emerged from Hagrid's hug with a flushed face, and slightly ruffled. A few strands of her hair had loosened from her tight bun, and now framed her face in the most charming way, but she gave Hagrid a genuine and warm smile. 'Thank you for your well wishes, Professor Hagrid.'

Hagrid clapped me on the back. 'You'd better get goin'. The service's about to start in a couple o' minutes.'

We joined the stream of wizards and witches again and walked down to the Black Lake. After the two articles about us in the _Daily Prophet_ it was probably inevitable that we got a lot of curious glances from the people around us. We did our best to ignore them, and thankfully no one accosted us: they were all consumed with their own memories of the two wars and the loved ones they had lost.

The Memorial Service took place in front of Dumbledore's grave. Row after row of white chairs had been put up in a half-circle in front of his memorial. On each side of the memorial now stood a white marble wall. Hundreds of names were engraved into the marble in shiny, golden letters that glinted in the sunshine: the names of each victim of the war, no matter whether human, goblin or elf. The latter two had caused an uproar in the Ministry when he proposed it, Kingsley had written to me, but in the end he got through with it.

As one year ago, it was a beautiful spring day. The sun shone down from a periwinkle sky, and yellow and white flowers dotted the lush, green lawn around the castle. The Giant Squid luxuriated in the sunshine on the surface of the Black Lake, and birds chirped loudly in the fresh green of the trees of the Forbidden Forest. It was a day full of life when we honoured the victims of an abomination that tried to escape death at all costs. If you ask me, fate has a strange sense of humour.

The rows of chairs were already filled to at least three quarters when we arrived. I could see Headmistress McGonagall and Kingsley in the front row. The other professors and a few Aurors sat with them. Behind them came a black sea of Hogwarts students. Left of the students was a red patch in the masses of dark robes: the Weasley clan in full force, plus Fleur. To my amazement, I saw Angelina Jones sitting next to George and holding his hand, but there was no sign of Hermione next to Ron, and she wasn't sitting with Ginny, either.

I exchanged nods with Dennis Creevey, who supported his crying mother, and Oliver Wood, who sat next to them. Then I guided Daphne to one of the rows in the back, and we sat down.

'Do you mind if we sit next to you?'

I looked up. Hermione stood in front of me, and Neville behind her. Considering how we had parted the night the _Princess Isabella_ left Colombo, the uneasy expression on her face was not surprising. However, the fact that she wasn't sitting with the Weasleys told me that my parting words that night obviously got through to her. It wouldn't hurt to show her some good will in return, so I nodded.

She sat down next to me. Neville gave Daphne and me a polite nod, and then took a seat beside Hermione.

Long years of friendship with Hermione told me that she was dying to talk to me. She shifted in her seat, and threw frequent glances at me from under her eyelashes. Once or twice she opened her mouth, but each time thought the better of it. She didn't calm down before Neville put his hand on hers and kept it there. To my amazement, Hermione clung to his hand as if it was a life line.

I watched her as intendly as she watched me, but I prefer to think that I was much more subtle about that. She was pale, which was emphasised in an unflattering manner by the black school robes she wore, and her usually so bushy hair hung down limp and lifeless. She also seemed to have lost weight. Was she ill?

The sound of violins startled me out of my thoughts. A string quartet opened the Memorial Service, and the whispers in the audience died down. After that, Professor McGonagall welcomed the congregation, followed with another piece of music. Then came the part I dreaded. Old Elphias Dodge spoke about his memories of the first war, and the hopelessness they had felt for years, until in one cold autumn night the wonder happened and the monster was destroyed.

I felt the bile rise in my throat. They had been free - at the price of the lives of my parents and of my childhood. Had it been worth it, considering that the magical world collectively put their heads in their arses after that, and let not only Voldemort return back to power without any resistance, but once more banked their hopes solely on me? Dumbledore probably would have said it was all for the Greater Good - as if that could ever fill the hole the loss of my parents had left in my heart, and remove the many scars, physically and mentally, I had received at the hands of the Dursleys and a magical world that hailed me as their saviour in one moment, and denounced me as Undesirable Number One the next.

Sensing my tension, Daphne put her hand on my clenched fists in my lap.

I turned my head and looked into her wonderful blue eyes. Seeing the unwavering love and support in them, the resentment drained off me like water from the back of a duck. Admittedly, I had suffered and made sacrifices in the fight against Voldemort, but I had also won my freedom, and my new life had given me a happiness I had never thought possible before. The future ahead of me was bright and full of promises, and it was all due to the young woman beside me.

I put my hand in Daphne's and squeezed it. She gave me a small smile, and then leaned her head against my shoulder.

Elphias Dodge stepped down from the pulpit, and Professor Flitwick took his place. I had never seen him that solemn as when he read out the names of the victims of the first war in alphabetical order. At each name, a friend or a relative would walk to the marble wall on the left side of Dumbledore's grave, and light a candle on the table that had been put up in front of it.

The reading seemed to go on and on, but the names I was waiting for came sooner than I was ready.

'James Potter - Lily Potter.'

Daphne squeezed my hand, then let go of me. I stood up and made my way down the seemingly endless aisle between the rows of chairs to the table with the burning candles. My hands trembled when I reached for the first candle, and I made slow and determined moves not to burn myself. I avoided to look at the columns of golden names in front of me, afraid I would lose it the moment I saw my parent's names.

The flash of a camera blinded me when I turned around to go back to my seat, and I almost stumbled. I should have known that not even that moment of grief for my parents was truly mine, but would be advertised to the magical world. With gritted teeth and clenched fists I walked back to Daphne.

The moment I sat down she wrapped her arms around me and held me tight. I let the comfort she gave me wash over me, thanking what ever deity was in charge of our fates for sending her into my life.

I had regained my composure by the time the reading of the names of the victims of the first war was over. Another piece of music followed, and then Kingsley stepped on the pulpit to speak about the second war. I listened with only half an ear. He had sent me his speech ahead, to make sure I was comfortable with it: a gesture of consideration I really appreciated. Thankfully, Kingsley's speech focussed on the resistance against Voldemort, especially the heroic deeds of those who saved the Muggleborns from the clutches of Umbridge and her Muggleborn Registration Office. My part in Tom's downfall was described as one among many, albeit a crucial one.

Kingsley came to an end sooner than I had anticipated. After Kingsley, a stern looking wizard with ice grey hair entered the pulpit. In a hoarse voice he began to read the names of the victims of the second war.

It didn't take long until I had to go to the front yet another time.

'Sirius Black.'

A murmur went through the audience that became louder when I got up from my seat and walked to the table with candles in front of the second marble wall. Sirius had been rehabilitated by the Wizengamot not long after the war, but there were still enough people who thought of him as the deranged mass murder. My connection to Sirius was not widely known, so a lot of people were surprised when Sirius Black, the mass murderer, was honoured by the Chosen One.

This time, my hands didn't tremble when I lit the candle, maybe because I had memories of Sirius, and had grieved for him in a way I never grieved for my parents. Again the flash of a camera blinded me when I walked back to my seat, but this time I was prepared for it, and didn't even blink.

While I walked back to my seat, the name of 'Colin Creevey' was read. Dennis stepped into the aisle to put up a candle for his brother. I stopped and gave him a brief hug, which he acknowledged with a sad smile and a slap on my back, and then squared his shoulders for the task ahead of him.

I had barely sat down when the next name that had meaning for me was called.

'Dobby, a free elf.'

Beside me, Hermione gasped, but she made no other comment when I stood up and walked down the aisle. That couldn't be said of the rest of the congregation. The whispering and murmuring in the rows got louder by the second as I put up a candle in remembrance of the faithful friend who gave his life to save us. I walked back to my seat, my head held high, and not heeding the cameras that were pointed at me.

Hermione gave me a tearful smile when I slipped back in my seat.

Daphne took my hand when I sat down beside her. Her fingers felt clammy and cold, and trembled slightly. I knew she was dreading the moment the names of her parents would be read out, so I put my arm around her shoulder and held her close, just like she had been there for me when I needed her comfort.

'Cyrus Greengrass - Isabella Greengrass,' the grey haired wizard read.

A shudder went through Daphne's body, and her face turned into the stony mask I had learned to associate with her hurting deeply, when she stood up and walked down the aisle.

'I had no idea that Greengrass' parents were killed during the war,' beside me Hermione whispered.

I paid her no heed. My eyes were focussed on Daphne as she walked down the aisle. She reached the table and picked up a candle to light it and put it beside the already burning candles. Her stony face betrayed nothing of the pain I knew she felt that moment. When she put up the second candle for her mother, a sunbeam caught in the diamond on her finger, causing it to flash brightly. A few people in the first rows gasped, and then stuck their heads together and whispered.

I groaned inwardly. Though we had no intent to keep our marriage a secret, we hadn't planned on advertising it today, either. But of course every bit of news concerning the Chosen One and his love interest was bound to catch the interest of the insatiable magical world.

Daphne turned around and began to walk back. In the bright sunlight I could see the tracks of tears on her cheeks, though her face still was a stony mask. She kept her composure until she had reached me. The moment she sat down, she flung her arms around me and buried her head at my shoulder. I felt how her body shook with sobs, and tried my best to comfort her and shelter her from the curious looks and the cameras that were directed at us.

Holding my wife and murmuring softly into her ear, I didn't pay much attention to the rest of the names. However, 'Remus Lupin' and 'Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin' caught my ear. I had to suppress a grin at the thought what Tonks would have said, had she known that her hated first name would be engraved in the memorial, to be read and remembered by generations of young wizards and witches. Probably something drastic that included at least one cuss word that would make a sailor blush, I decided, hardly suppressing a snort.

Hermione beside me was not that successful, and we exchanged a sad, little smile in memory of the spunky girl we both had been honoured to call a friend.

Mrs Tonks went down the aisle to put up a candle for her only child and her son-in-law. Her resemblance to Bellatrix was still unsettling, but I doubt that Bellatrix had ever worn such an expression of grief on her face. She had been incapable to love someone, so she had no idea what grief was.

'Frederick Weasley' was the last name to be read. George had the sad duty to put up a candle for his twin, and he shook like a leaf all the time while he did so. Angelina gathered him in her arms when he sat down, and I could see that he relaxed visibly.

The Memorial Service was concluded with another piece of music. After that, people stood up from their seats and walked up to the castle in small groups. Refreshments awaited us in the Great Hall, Headmistress McGonagall had announced.

Neville and Hermione waited for the majority of the congregation to leave before they stood up. Daphne and I also kept our seats. Daphne had regained her composure, but we both were not in the mood to join the masses that walked up to the castle. I exchanged nods in greeting with Bill and Mr Weasley as the Weasley clan passed by. George was still lost in his grief for Fred and didn't pay attention to his surroundings, but Mrs Weasley, Ron and Ginny all turned their heads to the side when they walked by.

Finally, we also left our places and slowly walked up to the castle. Hermione and Neville walked next to us.

'I'm sorry for your loss, Greengrass,' Hermione said, and Neville also offered his condolences.

Daphne thanked them with a sad, little smile.

We didn't talk much more on our way back to the castle, though I could see that Hermione was still trying to come up with a way to approach me as soon as possible.

The Great Hall was crowded with people. A buffet had been put up alongside one long wall of the room, and the house tables had been replaced by numerous small, round tables. I could see Ron standing near the buffet, a plate heaped high with food in one hand, and stuffing his face with the other. His eating manners hadn't improved since I last saw him. Some things obviously never changed.

We settled down at one of the last free tables near the entrance. The noise of the chatter in the room was deafening.

'Are you hungry, love?' I asked Daphne, but she shook her head. A house elf appeared, offering tea and coffee, and we each accepted a cup of tea, albeit I was amazed when Hermione asked for herbal tea.

We sat in an awkward silence. Neither Hermione nor I knew how to start after our last encounter, and my left hand fiddled nervously with the teaspoon on my saucer.

Hermione's gaze fell on my hand.

'Harry! Is that a wedding band?' she gasped.

Daphne and I exchanged a small smile.

'It is,' I confirmed.

'Congratulations, to both of you,' Neville smiled, while Hermione for once seemed to have lost the ability of speech.

'When did that happen?' she finally asked.

'Two days ago. We got married by the captain of the _Princess Isabella_ in a Muggle ceremony,' I told her. 'We're planning on exchanging our magical vows as soon as we've rebuilt Daphne's home. She wants a summer wedding in the gardens.'

Daphne smiled at me and took my hand, but didn't interfere in Hermione and my conversation.

Hermione's gaze had not once left my face. 'Are you happy?' she asked in a soft voice.

My eyes were drawn to my wife. 'As happy as I was never before in my life,' I confirmed.

'Then I'm happy for you,' Hermione said, taking a deep breath. 'My heartfelt congratulations.' She turned to Daphne. 'I'm sorry what I said about you when we last met. I didn't have all my facts straight, and I also wasn't in my right state of mind. I can now see how good you are for Harry: I've never seen him that happy before. But I'll give you only one warning.' She narrowed her eyes at Daphne. 'If you ever hurt him, you'll also have to answer to me!'

Daphne laughed at that. 'I wouldn't have expected anything else from you, Hermione. Everyone in our year knows how protective you and the Weasel are of Harry. Thank you, your approval means a lot to Harry and me.'

Hermione stiffened as she mentioned Ron, and I noticed how she balled the hand that didn't hold the handle of her teacup into a fist until the knuckles stood out white. 'Don't remind me of that moron,' she gritted out.

Neville put his hand on her balled fist and she slowly relaxed, giving him a thankful smile.

I watched the scene in front of me with increasing incredulity. As long as I could remember, Hermione had been Ron's girl, even back in the times when he still had no clue that she was a girl. Obviously, something had happened that made her change her mind. I was dying to find out, but unfortunately we were interrupted by Professor McGonagall who approached our table. Neville and I got to our feet.

'Please, keep your seat, Harry and Neville,' she said, standing between Hermione and me. 'I just came over to confirm our appointment with you and Miss Greengrass for after this reception. Come and see me in my office in about an hour.' She gave us a short nod, and then walked away to mingle with the other guests.

'What was that about?' Hermione asked, as inquisitive as always.

'Harry and I still have to take our N.E.W.T.s,' Daphne informed her over the rim of her teacup. 'Harry wrote to Professor McGonagall if she could recommend private tutors.'

'Ah, I see,' Hermione said. An awkward silence settled down between us after that. The ghost of our last encounter still stood heavily between us, and Hermione's latest revelations had given me a lot to think about.

Neville did his best to diffuse the strained mood. 'Are you still planning to join the Aurors after you've got your N.E.W.T.s, Harry?'

I shook my head at that. 'No, I think I've done my share of hunting dark wizards for more than two lifetimes.'

That had Neville, Hermione and Daphne chuckle.

'But what will you do, Harry? You have to earn a living for your family,' Hermione asked.

Daphne and I exchanged an amused smile. Thankfully, neither Hermione, nor Neville were like Ron, so I had no qualms to come clean with them.

'Actually, I don't, Hermione, at least not in the traditional sense,' I told her, rubbing my neck with my hand. I had no idea how she would take my decision to go into politics.

'You see, my grandfather, Fleamont Potter, was an exceptionally gifted Potions Master and chemist. He studied Chemistry at a Muggle university after he had finished his Potions Mastery. He first invented the _Sleak_ _Easy_ _Potion_ , and founded the _Sleak_ _Easy_ _Company_ , and then founded the _Aurora_ _Beauty_ _Company_ , together with a Muggle bloke from France.'

Hermione gasped at that. _Aurora_ beauty products were known to every Muggle in Europe.

'I hold substantial shares in both companies until today, and a seat on the board of directors of the _Aurora Beauty Company_ , not to mention a plethora of other investments and real estate,' I went on with my explanation. 'That alone keeps me pretty occupied.'

Hermione's eyes had gone wide, while Neville followed my explanations with a puzzled expression on his face. It was obvious he had never heard of the _Aurora Beauty Company._

'You must be one of the richest men of the world,' Hermione exclaimed.

'I'm not in the top ranks, but among the top hundred,' I confirmed. That got me an awed look from Neville.

Hermione, however, started to giggle. Her giggles soon became a full blown laughter.

'What's so funny about that?' Neville demanded to know.

'I gave him a dressing down because he took a cruise on a luxury ship and bought himself designer clothes,' she wheezed. 'Merlin, he probably could've bought the whole ship.' Again, she dissolved into laughter.

Her laughter was contagious, and soon all four of us were laughing.

Of course, Hermione was the first to regain her composure and focus on the parts I still hadn't covered. 'That's not all, isn't it, Harry? You have other plans.' Her eyes fixed me with an intent stare.

I nodded at that. 'You're right, Hermione. I've also inherited seats on the Wizengamot, from my own family as well as from Sirius.' I didn't mention the Prince and the Gaunt seat I could also lay claim on. They would find out about that soon enough. 'I plan on taking up the seats as soon as I'm old enough to do so. The decisions about our world are made at the Wizengamot. In my eyes it's a poor excuse for a governmental body. Most of the seats are held by either dark families or corrupt Ministry employees. I intend to change that. If we don't want to see the sacrifices we made during the war go to waste, and watch the ascent of the next Dark Lord, we need to make changes to the laws that guide us. The only place to make that happen is the Wizengamot. So, I'm going into politics.'

Hermione gaped at me. 'You, Harry? You're the last person I'd have expected to do that.'

'Stranger things have happened,' I remarked dryly. 'Hermione, I'm not the awkward teenager anymore who hated the attention he always got, and wanted nothing more than to be normal and unnoticed. Normality is a concept that doesn't apply to me, especially after I've sent Tom on the next, big adventure. I've finally learned to accept that. Since I can't escape my fame, I can at least put it to good use, and try to make the changes that are overdue in our society.'

She still looked at me as if she didn't know me. In a way, that was true. I had come a long way in the last year, and we had been out of contact most of the time. It was not amazing that she had a hard time to come to grips with the changed me.

Neville, however, beamed at me. 'Finally! You know that the Light Faction is waiting for the day you'll take up the mantle.'

Hermione gave him a puzzled frown.

'Neville has also a seat on the Wizengamot,' I told her. Then I turned to Neville. 'I know, but I doubt I will join the Light Faction. I see my role in the Wizengamot as an intermediary between the Traditionalists and the Light Faction. The moderate forces have to find a common ground, or they'll always be outmanoeuvred between the Ministry Faction and the Dark Faction.' I didn't mention my plans to undermine the power of these two factions. This was not the place to talk about them.

Neville's eyes flickered to Daphne, and he nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. 'That makes sense, considered to whom you are married. I suppose you'll also vote for the Greengrass seat?'

I gave my wife an amused side glance. 'I'd rather leave the voting for the Greengrass seat to Daphne. She knows what she's doing, considering she's the one who's tutoring me on my duties on the Wizengamot.'

'If you know what's good for you, love,' Daphne agreed, and kissed me on the cheek to take the sting out of her words.

Neville laughed at that. 'Your decision will cause a lot of raised eyebrows,' he prophesied.

'Why's that?' Hermione interjected. 'If Daphne inherited the seat of her family, she's surely allowed to cast the votes.'

'Legally, yes, but it's an unusual decision. The magical community is until today a patriarchal system. A heiress who inherited the family seat on the Wizengamot is supposed to appoint her husband as her proxy, until one of her sons is old enough to take up the mantle,' Neville explained to her, and raised his teacup from the saucer to take another sip.

Hermione made a face as if she smelled something unpleasant. 'Don't tell me about that! I've had enough of that nonsense lately.' She pushed her half emptied cup of herbal tea away. 'That stuff's nauseating.' Indeed, her face had a slight, green tinge. 'Excuse me, please, I need some fresh air.' She stood up and gave me a pleading look. 'Can we have a talk after your appointment with the headmistress?'

I nodded at that. 'We'll wait for you in the Entrance Hall in two hours.'

Flashing a relieved smile at me, Hermione turned around and almost fled from the hall.

Neville's eyes followed her hasty exit. He looked slightly worried. 'I'd better follow her, and make sure she's alright,' he announced and also stood up. He gave Daphne and me a nod. 'See you later.'

'Now, that's interesting,' my wife remarked, watching Neville leaving the room as she drained her cup of tea.

'What do you mean, love?' From my point of view, our whole conversation with Hermione and Neville had been as strange as it was interesting, and I had no idea to which part Daphne was alluding.

She cast me a weird, little smile. 'Not here, love. Have you finished your tea? Let's have a walk around the lake until it's time to talk to Professor McGonagall. We won't have that many listeners out there.'

I looked around the room. Though they pretended to be in lively conversations with the people at their own tables, I saw the many curious glances we got from the inhabitants of the tables that surrounded us. 'Good idea,' I nodded, and got to my feet.

On our way out we had the misfortune to run into a wall of redheads who also made their exit. Daphne and I halted our steps, but it was too late; they had already seen us.

Mr Weasley, Bill, Percy and George gave us polite nods, and so did Fleur and Angelina. Charlie gave the impression of a man who had no idea what he was supposed to think. His eyes wandered back and fro between us and his family, and he looked as if he wished himself miles away, back to the safety of his dragons.

I couldn't blame him. The look Mrs Weasley gave me would have put the Basilisk out of work, and made the Hungarian Horntail seem like a cuddly stuffed animal. I stood my ground, determined not to show her that I was quivering in my shoes.

Her eyes swerved to Daphne. The next second my anxiety turned into fury at the contempt in her eyes when she regarded my wife from top to toe. She said something to Ginny, who stood beside her. Ginny snorted, and also regarded Daphne with a look of disdain. However, when her eyes came to rest on Daphne's hand on my arm, she gasped: Daphne's rings were plain to see for everyone who cared to look. Her face morphed into the ugly expression she had shown the night she, Ron and Hermione had intruded upon our suite.

My wand slipped into my hand on sheer instinct, and I pushed Daphne behind me and sheltered her with my body.

Ginny bared her teeth, but made no motion to draw her wand. That was a smart move on her part: this time I wouldn't have hesitated to throw anything short of an Unforgivable at her, no matter how damaging that would have been to her body.

With a frown on his face, Mr Weasley stepped between me and his daughter, his hand on the pocket where he kept his wand.

Mrs Weasley said something to Ginny in a low voice, and the two women turned around and walked out of the castle. The rest of the family filed out of the door behind them. I thought that Mr Weasley and Bill gave me apologetic looks before they walked through the door, but that might have been my imagination.

Ron brought up the rear. He surely wasn't in an apologetic mood. He walked up to me, invading my personal space. 'You'll pay for what you've done to my sister, Potter!' He whirled around and walked out of the door. His exit would have been impressive, hadn't a gust of wind banged the ancient font door shut right before his nose, and he had to yank the handle twice before the crooked door cooperated and opened for him.

I let out the breath I didn't know I had been holding, and turned around to Daphne.

She just stashed her wand back into her pocket.

'Are you alright, love?' I asked her, my eyes still on her hand with the wand.

'Just spiffing,' she assured me drily. Then she noticed my gaze, and she gave me a wry grin. 'You don't think I would've allowed that hussy to kill my husband, do you?' she said in a conversational tone, and took my arm to walk out of the castle.

I smiled at that. 'No, I've learned not to underestimate you, love, despite that you failed your Defense O.W.L.s. You manage rather well with a few standard spells, your inborn determination, and a certain ruthlessness. However, I'd feel more at ease if you'd appreciated my concerns for your safety, and stayed hidden behind me.'

We ambled down to the lake in the bright midday sunshine as we spoke.

Daphne snorted at my last statement. 'You're such a knight in shining armour.' Her eyes became two balls of blue steel. 'That's the difference between us, love. You'd die to protect the ones you love, while I'd kill to protect my loved ones.'

I stopped in my tracks and stared at the delicate beauty on my arm. There was no doubt in my mind about the truth of her statement. She would kill to protect me and our future children, and she would probably never feel a pang of remorse about it. What shocked me even more was the realisation that a part of me wholeheartedly agreed with her. Only minutes ago I had been ready to cast at Ginny whatever was necessary to subdue her, and wouldn't have cared if she got seriously hurt or even killed in that process.

'Sometimes you're downright frightening,' I said in an attempt to loosen the suddenly tense mood between us.

She gave me the impish grin I loved so much. 'Don't you forget it, love.'

The tension was broken. We laughed, and continued our way down to the lake. In silent, but mutual agreement we avoided the path that led to Dumbledore's grave, and led our steps to an area where a light wood reached the water. The May sun was already amazingly strong, and we were thankful for the cool when we reached the shadow of the trees.

'What was it you found interesting about Hermione?' I asked as soon as we were out of sight behind the trees.

Again, Daphne smiled that weird little smile. 'You've noticed that Hermione looks sick, haven't you? She doesn't want to drink tea, and herbal tea makes her nauseous, so that she has to leave the room. What does that tell you?'

I have to admit, I had no idea. 'That she has a case of tummy flu?' I asked tentatively.

My wife chuckled at that. 'You're on the right track with the tummy, love, but it's not the flu, albeit a lot of women mistake it for that in the beginning.'

She still spoke in riddles. Her continued chuckles told me that she found my ignorance highly amusing, and I doubled my efforts to find out what she was talking about. It finally hit me like a bolt of lightning out of the blue. 'You mean, Hermione is _pregnant_?' I asked, and heard how my voice cracked.

'I think so,' Daphne smiled.

I had to process that. I didn't know much about these things, but what little I had picked up in my life about the symptoms of an early pregnancy was surely there.

'You might be right,' I conceded, putting my arm around her shoulder. 'Who do you think is the father?'

Daphne snuggled against my side with a contented sigh, but at my question she stopped and cast me a surprised look. 'Why, the Weasel, who else? I thought that's evident after what George has told us about their exploits back in March.'

'One should think so,' I agreed as we walked on. 'But from Hermione's words I got the impression that she's broken up with Ron, and she and Neville seemed to be awfully cosy with each other.'

My wife considered my words, but then shook her head. 'I don't think so. I agree that she's broken up with the Weasel. If that's the case, it must've happened sometime after their visit in Colombo. That was barely a month ago. Hermione doesn't strike me as the kind of girl who breaks up with one guy and jumps into bed with the next one immediately after that, and Longbottom certainly isn't the kind of guy who'd take advantage of a girl in an emotional fragile state. He's more the type who'll provide a shoulder to cry on, and handkerchiefs and chocolate to get her back to life after the disaster. I think that's what he's doing right now. Pregnant or not, she needs a friend after her break-up with the Weasel, and he's there for her.'

We had reached a small clearing at the lake as we talked. A couple of boulders were scattered around, and we sat down on one of them, bathing our faces in the sun. It was pleasantly quiet here; the castle and its inhabitants were out of sight, and only the chirping of the birds in the trees could be heard.

Neither Daphne nor I had eaten much for breakfast, and we both hadn't been in the mood for food immediately after the memorial service. I called Kreacher and asked him to bring us sandwiches and butterbeer. He was only too happy to oblige, and a few minutes later we had an impromptu picnic.

After that it was time for our meeting with Headmistress McGonagall.

She greeted us warmly as we entered her office. 'Miss Greengrass, Harry, it's good to see you.' Just like Hagrid, she regarded me with a long look. 'You're looking good, Harry.' She looked as if she wanted to say more on that regard, but was interrupted by Professor Dumbledore's portrait behind her desk.

'Welcome back to Hogwarts, Harry,' he smiled at me. 'Miss Greengrass! It' s surely a surprise to see you together with Harry, albeit a pleasant one.'

'I disagree,' a surly voice interrupted us from the back part of the office.

I turned around. Snape's portrait sneered at me from its place where it was almost hidden between the larger portraits of two former headmasters. They feigned sleep, but were listening intently to our conversation, if their body language was anything to go by.

'Professor Snape; how do you do,' I greeted him politely. Even though he was a git in death as he had been in life, I was thankful to him that he had saved my life on more than one occasion, and in the end provided me with the crucial information I needed to bring down Tom once and for all. After I had come to that conclusion, I had no problems to show the dead man the respect I never had for him while he was still alive. Albeit I have to admit that the thought that he pined for my mother all his life still nauseates me.

'Potter!' he acknowledged me, much less politely. 'Miss Greengrass, it's nice to see you again. You always were one of my favourite students. At least you were able to appreciate the subtle art of brewing, contrary to others I could name.' He sneered at me once again.

I wasn't fazed about that. His portrait on the wall didn't have the power to unsettle me anymore. After all, I could shut him up with a Silencing Charm anytime he started to grate on my nerves, and he could do nothing about that. I put my arm around Daphne's shoulder, just because I could, and I knew that would raise his hackles. 'You're wrong, professor. This isn't Daphne Greengrass anymore. May I introduce my wife, Daphne Potter?'

Professor Snape's portrait made a face as if a huge load of dragon dung had just been dumped at his feet, while Professor McGonagall gasped in surprise, and Professor Dumbledore's portrait beamed.

'What possessed you to marry Potter, Daphne? Did he hit you with the Imperius Curse?' Professor Snape's portrait asked my wife.

Daphne gave him her most indignant Ice Queen stare. I am not ashamed to admit that I found the effect her glare had on Professor Snape's portrait highly amusing: the git literally withered under her stare. But Daphne was not yet finished with him.

'Certainly not,' she replied, and I swear her voice was cold enough to make the temperature in the room drop a few degrees. 'Don't you think it's about time to get over your prejudices about my husband, professor, and see him for the great man he really is, instead of mistaking him as a transfer picture of your childhood enemy? Not to mention how childish it was to allow your childhood animosities and losses to rule your adult life?'

I almost pitied Professor Snape - with " _almost_ " being the keyword there. It was just too satisfying to see him cowering in front of the rightful indignation of my wife.

'Uhm - congratulations, then. I hope you'll never come to regret your decision, Daphne,' the git said, ignoring most of her speech.

Never one to leave out an opportunity to rile him up, I replied, 'Thank you, professor. After the impact you and Professor Dumbledore had on my life, I'm even thinking of naming one of my future sons after you. Albus Severus Potter, doesn't that sound nice?'

I had had no idea that a portrait could become apoplectic. Professor Snape's face assumed an interesting shade of puce that would have rivalled Uncle Vernon's on the day I blew up his sister. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out of it. I could hear Professor Dumbledore chuckle.

Daphne, however, elbowed me in the side. 'Harry James Potter, you might be thinking of that, but I most definitely won't let you do that! With the burden of these two names the poor child will be unhappy for the rest of his life, especially if he's got the misfortune to look like you.'

That had Professor Dumbledore's portrait chuckle even harder, and I imagined that I heard a choked sound from Professor McGonagall. I shrugged my shoulders and turned back to Professor Snape's portrait.

'Sorry about that, Professor; you heard what the wife said. In another life, maybe. But now you've got to excuse us: we've come here to talk to Headmistress McGonagall about our education, and we can't occupy her time indefinitely.'

Professor McGonagall took up the cue, and led us to a small seating area near the window where once Fawkes' perch had been.

'What can I do for you, Harry and Daphne?'

I explained to her that we were looking for private tutors to see us and Tracey and Nott through the last year of our N.E.W.T.s.

Professor McGonagall regarded us with a thoughtful expression, and then summoned four scrolls of parchment. Our files, I supposed. She studied the parchments, and then looked up. 'You four took more or less the same classes. All four of you had Potions, Transfiguration, Charms and Herbology, while you and Mr Nott took Defense, Harry, and Daphne and Miss Davis had Ancient Runes and Arithmancy.' She leaned back in her seat, adjusting her glasses. 'I think all of your former professors will be happy to assist you. Also, next year Professor Sprout and I will take on Mr Longbottom and Miss Granger as master students. I think they'll both be happy to earn some additional pocket money with tutoring you in Transfiguration and Herbology. However, that would mean you four will have to live at the castle, because your lessons with us would be erratic, due to our other obligations, and you'd have to do a lot of self study. Do you think you can manage that?'

Daphne and I exchanged a look. 'I think self study won't be a problem, professor,' Daphne replied. 'Harry and I both have obligations with our family businesses, and the same is true for Theo. We all will appreciate a flexible schedule that leaves us time to take care of our other obligations. Where will we live if we return to the school? Would we be regarded as students? It would certainly feel weird to live in the dorms again, and be reduced to the status of a student.'

Professor McGonagall regarded her with one of her small, close lipped smiles. 'You'll stay in the guest quarters, of course. There are single rooms, but also bigger appartements for families. Mr Longbottom and Miss Granger will also live in that part of the castle. You'll have the status of master students, which means that you can leave the castle anytime you need to. While I know that money is not really an issue with you, Harry, I think we can come to an agreement about the costs of the next year. I have an offer for you, but I don't know if you are willing to accept it.'

'Try me,' I replied.

She actually chuckled at that. 'Well, Madam Hooch never recovered completely from the injuries she suffered during the Battle. She wants to retire, so I'm in dire need of a broom instructor. Since you're a natural on a broom…'

'I'll do it,' I interjected before she could finish her sentence. Teaching a bunch of excited firsties how to fly and make them experience some of the joy I had always felt on a broom sounded like great fun to me.

She let out a sigh of relief. 'Thank you, Harry, that takes a load off my shoulders. But there's also another problem.' She hesitated.

'How can we be of help, professor?' Daphne asked.

'Well, ever since poor Charity Burbage got killed by V-voldemort, and the abysmal teaching of Alecto Carrow during the last year of the war, the position of the professor for Muggle Studies isn't attractive anymore. Last year I already had to accept a teacher the Ministry sent me. While he was nothing like Umbridge, he wasn't what I deem adequate for the job, either. With you spending so much time in the Muggle world I thought…'

Daphne and I shared a look while she spoke. That was exactly what we had meant to talk about with her, as we made our first plans together how to change the magical world, way back on that trip from New York to San Francisco. I couldn't fathom my luck that it was so easy to broach the subject of the needed changes in Muggle Studies.

'Actually, Daphne and I meant to talk with you about the fact that the subject of Muggle Studies needs to be improved,' I interjected. 'We never thought of the possibility that you'll ask us to teach, but that's even better. Though, don't we need at least our N.E.W.T.s for that?'

A look of relieve appeared on Professor McGonagall's face, and she gave us one of her rare smiles. 'Thank you for making it so easy on me, Daphne and Harry. Well, of course you'll need a N.E.W.T. in Muggle studies, but that can be arranged easily. I doubt you'll have any problems to pass the test, even though you never took the subject.'

'I'd also like to offer a course in Wizard Traditions for Muggleborns,' Daphne added.

Professor McGonagall's eyebrows rose at that. 'Why's that, Daphne?' She listened attentively when we explained our reasons.

'You're right,' she decided, after she had mulled over our arguments. 'The Muggleborns are always at a disadvantage in our society because they have no ideas about some traditions and social customs, and nobody ever cares to explain. I say go for it. It will certainly cause a shit storm from the Light Faction because it seems as if we're regressing to the old ways, and the Dark Faction will be most unhappy because we'll let the Muggleborns into secrets they'd rather keep from them, but I can handle that.'

Daphne beamed at me. I also felt satisfied. This meeting went much better than I had thought before. I had expected some resistance from Professor McGonagall to our ideas about Muggle Studies and the necessity to tutor the Muggleborns on Wizard Traditions.

Soon after that, our meeting came to an end.

'That went better than I expected,' Daphne mirrored my thoughts, and took my arm as we ambled down to the Entrance Hall to meet with Hermione.

'Do you think Tracey and Nott will object to living at the castle for another year?'

Daphne shook her head. 'I don't think so. Tracey told me that they don't want to live at the Nott estate. Apparently the manor's a dark place, full of horrible memories for Theo, and he doesn't want to start a family there. They're looking for a house near Royal Tunbridge Wells, but with Theo being busy with the Nott family business, and their N.E.W.T.s on top of that, they hardly have the time for that. I think they'll be thankful not to have to care about where to live for another year.'

We had reached the Entrance Hall while we talked. Hermione sat on a bench near the door, waiting for us. She was not alone: Neville sat next to her. Somehow, I wasn't surprised about that.

They stood up as we walked closer. 'Do you mind if Neville joins our talk?' Hermione asked, biting her lower lip.

'Not at all. After all, Daphne will also be there,' I replied.

She gave my wife a side glance. 'That's alright with me; what I have to say to you concerns her as much as it concerns you,' she assured me. She squared her shoulders. 'Whereto?'

'What about that tree at the lake where we always used to sit, for old times sake?' I asked.

She laughed at that, and went ahead. Daphne, Neville and I followed her down the familiar path to the lake. We didn't talk until we had reached an ancient downy birch near the shore. Hermione conjured a blanket to sit on, and I placed a Warming Charm on the ground, and a couple of Privacy Charms around us, before we all settled down.

I propped my back against the log of the tree. Daphne sat between my legs, her back leaned against my chest. The unbidden memory of a sunny spring afternoon in our sixth year came to me, when I had sat exactly in this spot, but the girl in my arms had been Ginny. I shooed the memory away, and concentrated on the task at my hands.

'What's on your mind, Hermione?'

She took a deep breath and cast an uneasy glance at Neville. He reached over and squeezed her hand, as if to encourage her. 'Just tell Harry what you found out. He will be mad, but certainly not at you,' he told her.

Now, that was interesting.

Hermione nodded and squared her shoulders. I found it even more interesting that she kept her hand in Neville's when she started talking.

'You've been right all along with what you said on the _Princess Isabella_ ,' she told my wife. 'I didn't want to believe it at first, but after we had come home, and the shock about everything that had happened settled down, I started thinking.' She gulped and flicked with her tongue over her dry lips. 'Harry's reaction to Ginny when her hair flew into his face _was_ strange. As much as I didn't want to believe that one of my best friends did that to my other best friend, I came to the conclusion that you've been right: Ginny has used a Love Potion on her hair to attract Harry to her.'

She pushed a strand of her unruly hair out of her face. The pain that conclusion still caused her was plain to see on her face. Friendship meant a lot to Hermione, just as it did to me, probably because we both grew up without friends. When we finally found them, we cherished what we had.

'I confronted Ginny,' she went on in a soft voice, looking over the Black Lake. 'Not only about the Love Potion, but also about what she's done in your suite. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I never would've believed she was capable to cast the Killing Curse at someone, or try to strangle someone with her bare hands.' She shuddered at the memory of that horrible scene, and so did Daphne and I.

I pulled Daphne closer to me, out of an irrational feeling of protectiveness. 'How did Ginny react to that?' I asked.

'She denied to have used a Love Potion on you,' Hermione replied. 'Funny enough, she sounded absolutely honest when she did so. For the other incidents, however…' Her voice trailed off, and again she shuddered violently.

Neville scooted closer to her and put his arm around her shoulder. She relaxed against him.

'She shrugged it off, as if it wasn't a big deal, and as if it couldn't bring her to Azkaban for life,' Hermione went on, and her voice trembled. 'You should've seen her eyes when I talked to her, Harry: there was madness in them. She was incapable to acknowledge that your relationship has ended months ago. She insisted that she was your fiancé, and that you were going to get married this summer. She thought it the absolutely sensible thing to kill Daphne because she came between you. It was as if she'd lost the grip on reality.'

Daphne and I shared a look. 'Tell her about the letters,' my wife said.

And so I told Hermione and Neville about the letters I had received from Ginny, beginning with the ones full of imagined sexual content, and finishing with those who were downright creepy and frightening. 'Daphne and I both had the impression that she's lost all grip on reality,' I concluded.

Neville cleared his throat. 'Is that why you didn't call the Aurors immediately after she tried to kill Daphne, or at least held her captive in your suite? You thought she wasn't accountable for what she's done?' he asked.

I blushed at the criticism in his words. He was right, of course. I had kicked my arse repeatedly over the last couple of weeks for simply sending Ginny away after she had cast the Killing Curse on Daphne.

'Partly,' I admitted. 'I have to confess, I wasn't in my right mind immediately after it happened. I was shocked to the core, and I wanted her to be as far away from Daphne as possible.'

Daphne nodded to that, and even Hermione looked as if she agreed.

'There were also practical reasons for my decision,' I went on. 'The ship just had left Colombo. You know that it's impossible to Apparate or Portkey to a moving target. The risk to splinch yourself or to get lost in the void is too big. Because of that, calling the Aurors to us was out of the question. We had three days at sea ahead of us before we reached the next port. It was too risky to hold Ginny captive on a Muggle ship for that long: the crew went in and out of our suite on a regular base, and they would've noticed something strange going on.'

'You could've informed the Aurors, so that they had arrested her the moment she arrived back home,' Neville objected, a grim line around his mouth. 'After what Hermione told me, she was unconscious from your Stunner for forty-eight hours.'

I gaped at him, not believing my ears. I must have put more power into that Stunner than I had realised.

'That was my fault,' Daphne interjected. 'Harry and I talked about everything that had happened the next day, after we had calmed down enough to think straight again.' She hesitated and tilted her head back, looking at me. 'How much does Neville know about the events of our second year and Tom's little trinkets, love?'

Neville looked puzzled. 'What has our second year or V-Voldemort to do with Ginny trying to kill you?'

I rubbed my face with the palms of my hands. 'Neville doesn't know any more about it than the rest of the school. But I don't mind telling him; I'm sure he'll keep the story to himself.'

'In contrary to someone else I could name Neville knows how to keep his mouth shut,' Hermione remarked scathingly from the shelter of Neville's arm, though she also gave me an inquiring look. Obviously she was amazed that Daphne seemed to know these details of my past.

I gave Daphne a little nudge. 'Go ahead and tell him, love. I'm tired of telling that story.'

Hermione's eyebrows went up at that, but she didn't comment.

Daphne turned to Neville. 'During our second year, Ginny Weasley was possessed by a soul fragment of Voldemort. It forced her to open the Chamber of Secrets, and to sic Slytherin's monster on the school.'

'Ginny did all that?' Neville asked, the disbelief plain in his voice.

I shook my head. 'She was only an unwilling tool. The real culprits were Lucius Malfoy and Voldemort, but that's another story.'

His eyes got huge and round at that, but he simply nodded, and motioned Daphne with a gesture of his hand to go on.

'It nearly killed her in the end, hadn't Harry arrived just in time to kill the monster and to destroy the soul fragment. The events of that year had a horrible impact on Ginny. She had missed a lot of her schooling, due to the times of possession, and never caught up with that. She never got close to her classmates because of the events of that year. Unfortunately, the Weasley parents chose to pretend that nothing had happened, and never got Ginny help to overcome that trauma. Instead, she was left to her own devices. Alone and friendless, the laughing stock of her class because of her alleged dumbness and the well known poverty of her family, she nourished her unhealthy crush on Harry.'

'She talked about you the whole time, Harry, when I took her to the Yule Ball,' Neville interjected in a soft voice, shaking his head.

'That doesn't surprise me,' Daphne replied. 'She never gave up on him, and was over the moon when they finally got together in our sixth year, though I suspect that she only managed that because she already used that Love Potion. She was devastated when he broke up with her only a few short weeks later. However, Harry overcame Voldemort, and he immediately turned back to her. She must have felt as if she was finally getting her happily ever after, but it was only a fluke before the next blow.'

Daphne took a deep breath before she went on. Her hand held mine in a death grip as she told the rest of the story. 'There was more than one soul piece of Voldemort floating around. One of them had attached itself to Harry when Voldemort tried to kill him on Halloween 1981. That soul fragment was killed the night of the Battle, when Voldemort cast a Killing Curse on Harry yet another time.'

Neville gasped at that, but didn't interrupt.

My hand hurt from Daphne's grip, but she went on with my story without as much as a tremble in her voice. 'Harry told Ginny everything that had happened as soon as they came back together. When she learned that Harry had had a soul fragment of Voldemort inside of him for so many years, she couldn't bear it. It probably brought back the memories of her possession. Harry told me that she recoiled from him and couldn't bear to touch him anymore. He tried to give her space and time to get used to it, but it was to no avail. Because of that, he ended it with her. However, Ginny couldn't accept that, either. I guess, her unhealthy crush on Harry was the only thing that kept her going for a very long time, and when her dreams went into shambles the moment she seemed to have reached her goal, something broke inside of her. She can't bear to be with Harry because of his history, but she can't let go of him, either. That made her lose the grip on reality, I think.'

I held her close, knowing what it had cost her to tell that story, but also thankful that she had spared me to tell it with my own words.

She turned her head and gave me a soft kiss on the cheek. Then she turned back to Neville. 'That's why I told Harry I won't press charges against her for trying to kill me twice. I don't think that she's responsible for what she's been doing that night, and I can't stand the thought to send a girl to Azkaban that was abused when she was too young to defend herself, and never got the help she needed from those who were supposed to take care of her. You know these arguments don't count in front of the Wizengamot, Neville. They'll send her to Azkaban because she used the Killing Curse, and will never bother to ask why she acted that way, or if she can be held accountable.'

Neville's face had undergone a series of emotions while he listened to Daphne: from grim to compassionate, and finally understanding.

'I see your point,' he admitted. 'But you can't leave it at that. If she's so far over the edge as you suppose, she's a constant danger to you and to herself.'

'We know that,' I interjected. 'That's why I wrote to Arthur Weasley and asked to meet him and his heir tomorrow. He can't ignore the formal complaint of a Head of House about the conduct of a member of his house. We hope that we can persuade him to send Ginny to a Squib psychotherapist who helped me to get over my issues after the war. I'm even willing to cover the costs of that, if the Weasley's don't have the money.'

Of course, Neville had to point his finger on the sore spot. 'That's very considerate of both of you, Daphne and Harry, but what if the Weasleys don't agree to that? Mind you, Arthur Weasley and his heir are both honourable men, and they'll probably be glad for the way out you offer them. But I've also heard that it's Mrs Weasley who rules the roost in the Weasley family. After what I've heard from Hermione about her erratic behaviour during the last couple of months, I wouldn't count on her good sense.'

Daphne and I shared a helpless look. I hadn't allowed myself to think of that possibility, and from the way my wife looked at me I knew she also didn't. But, of course, Neville was right. It wouldn't do for us to stick our heads in the sand.

'In that case we'll have no other choice than to inform the Aurors,' I said softly, and Daphne nodded to that.

'We've collected the necessary evidence for that,' she informed Neville and Hermione. 'I've persuaded Harry to keep her wand: a simple _Priori Incantatem_ will show that the Killing Curse has been cast with it. We have a strand of her hair; an analysis will show the love potion. We've made photos of my throat, and we have the weird letters she sent to Harry.'

'You'll also have my testimony,' Hermione said in a hoarse voice. 'Though I hate it to do that to Arthur and Bill; however, Ginny can't allowed to go on like this if the Weasleys don't see reason.'

We fell into a thoughtful silence. Finally, I cleared my throat and looked at Hermione. 'As concerned as you are about Ginny, that wasn't all you wanted to talk about, was it, Hermione? What about your part in all of this? And what about Ron? The last thing I heard of you was that you were going on strong as a couple, but it seems to me that has changed.'

Hermione blanched at my words. She cast a helpless look at Neville, who squeezed her shoulder. 'Just tell Harry everything. I think he'll understand.'

She nodded, and squared her shoulder. Then she looked me straight into the eyes. 'You weren't the only one who was manipulated with a Love Potion, Harry.'

I stared at her, not believing what she said. Hermione had always been Ron's girl. 'You mean - you and Ron, all that drama, your devastation when he left us, that was all a fluke?' I stammered.

Hermione pushed a strand of her hair out of her face. 'Not entirely. I had a crush on him when I was a young teenager. After all, he saved me from that troll with a spell he mastered then for the first time.' A small smile played around her lips at the memory.

I also had to smile. Little did we know back then that our fight with the troll was the first of many hair rising and life threatening adventures to come. It had been the day the three of us had become best friends, but in hindsight it seemed to me as if our friendship had already started on an off note. 'You wouldn't have been in danger if Ron hadn't made that cruel remark about you.'

She gave me a sad smile. 'Yeah, that incident would somehow set the tune for Ron and my relationship, don't you think so? He'd do something incredibly insensitive that hurt me badly, and then set it right with a grand gesture that swept me away - until the next time.' Her voice sounded bitter.

I startled. I had never looked at them that way, but she surely had a point there.

'I was completely through with Ron after the Yule Ball,' Hermione told us.

Neville and I looked at each other and chuckled, both remembering the spectacular fight Ron and Hermione had had in the common room after the ball.

'I started dating Victor Krum, but broke up with him when he returned to Bulgaria. With the O.W.L.s in our fifth year, and that bitch Umbridge trying to get the school under her thumb, I had no time to think about boys. However, you can't imagine my amazement when my crush on Ron returned full force during the holidays before our sixth year, when we stayed together at _The Burrow_.'

Daphne stiffened in my arms. She turned around to me. 'Wasn't that about the time when you felt first attracted to Ginny, Harry?'

I nodded to that. 'What a strange coincidence,' I mused.

'It wasn't,' Hermione confirmed our suspicions. 'At first, I fought the crush. Ron is everything I hate about a boy: lazy, an insensitive big mouth, sloppy, and with horrible manners on top of that. But it became stronger, and after a while I accepted it. Well, you know how he trampled all over me during our sixth year, only to make up for it at Dumbledore's funeral.'

Neville and I exchanged a grim look. We had had first row seats to the drama all year long.

'My crush on him deepened while we stayed at _The Burrow_ before Bill and Fleur's wedding. I had just Obliviated my parents and sent them to Australia, so I was at my most vulnerable. I felt as if I had no one else to turn to than Ron. Then the Ministry fell, and the three of us had to go on the run. I knew that wasn't the right time to pursue my relationship with Ron, especially since…' She broke off and bit her lips, casting me an uneasy glance from under her eyelashes.

'Since Ron has always been jealous of me, and thought you and I had a thing going,' I finished the sentence for her.

She nodded to that. 'Well, you know what happened during the Battle, Harry.'

I chuckled. From the grin that spread across Neville's face I concluded that Hermione must have told him about her first kiss with Ron. Daphne, however, looked clueless. 'I'll tell you later,' I whispered in her ear.

'We travelled to Australia together to find my parents,' Hermione continued her tale, a wistful expression on her face. 'I was as happy as never before in my life. We found my parents, but…' A shadow flickered over her face as she interrupted herself mid-sentence. I could see how Neville pulled her closer to him and murmured something in her ear.

'I wasn't able to cancel the Obliviation Charm I'd put on them,' she told us, wiping her eyes. 'I don't know how I managed that, but in my desperation to save my parents I must've put much more power behind my spell as I realised, and I wasn't able to access that power again after the danger was over.'

That made sense to me. Under high pressure I had also managed to perform magic that had been impossible for me before.

She gave me a hopeful look. 'Actually, I'd hoped you'd come with me to Australia, and will help me to cancel that spell, but after what happened in Colombo…'

'Anytime, Hermione,' I interrupted her, and I meant it. 'Daphne and I already talked about to return to Australia for a longer visit,' I added to ease the tension.

A relieved smile spread over Hermione's face, and then she slumped against Neville and hid her face at his shoulder. He put his arms around her and rocked her gently, while she tried to regain her composure.

While Neville was occupied with Hermione, Daphne and I shared a silent look. I could see that she found the new dynamics among my friends highly amusing, but I still had to come to grips with the fact that Hermione broke it off with Ron and suddenly was awfully cosy with Neville.

Hermione straightened up and looked at me again. Her face was red and streaked with tears, and she still held Neville's hand.

'Thank you, Harry. You have no idea how much that means to me.' She took a deep breath, and then continued her story. 'Everything changed after that. I was heartbroken. Ron, however…' She bit her lip. 'You know how he is, Harry. He thought it wasn't that big a deal.'

'He always had the emotional range of a teaspoon,' I remarked.

That had her laugh. 'You remember that, even after all these years?' she asked.

'It's one of these poignant observations that are hard to forget,' I replied, and she chuckled even harder, before her face sobered.

'We returned home to another drama. You had broken up with Ginny for a second time and gone incommunicado. Ginny was heartbroken, and Ron was furious with you for hurting his little sister once again. I was trapped between that.'

I felt a pang of remorse. It wasn't the first time that happened to her when Ron and I fought, and she did not know which side to choose, but with the worry about her parents it was the most unfortunate time something like that could have happened to her. 'I'm sorry, Hermione,' I told her. 'I shouldn't have put you in that position.'

' _You_ weren't the one to put her into that position, Harry,' Neville interjected. 'It's all Ron's fault. He made Hermione choose between her friendship to you and her love to him. You know how unreasonable he can get.'

'I made the wrong decision,' Hermione admitted. 'Instead of telling Ron to bugger off, I tried to appease him by cutting ties to you. I didn't want to lose the Weasleys after I seemed to have lost my own parents.' Her voice became very soft at the last words.

Neville reached up with his hand and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. She gave him a short side look and smiled. I had never seen her smiling that way at Ron.

'I was perfectly happy for a while; at least I told myself so. Ron, Ginny and I lived at _The Burrow_ , together with Mr and Mrs Weasley. In hindsight I have to admit that something was seriously wrong. Mrs Weasley wasn't herself anymore. You remember how much pride she always took into caring for her family, Harry?'

I nodded.

'Well, when we returned from Australia, the house was neglected. Instead of cooking and baking, Mrs Weasley spend her days pouring over the Weasley and Prewitt Family Grimoires, and brewing potions. She and Ginny spent hours locked away in the parent's bedroom, talking about Merlin knows what, while Ron and I had to take care of the house. I first thought nothing of that. After all, grief can do funny things to people. But then Bill, Fleur, Percy and George stopped to come for Sunday lunches. Shortly after that Mr Weasley moved out of the parent's bedroom and into Percy's old room.' Hermione flushed a bright red.

My mouth hung open. 'You mean…'

'For all intents and purposes Mr and Mrs Weasley live separately. I overheard a talk Mr Weasley had with Bill. He said he only still lived at _The Burrow_ because he couldn't afford the rent for a flat, with all the loans he still has to pay for the education of his children. Bill offered him a room in his house, in case he couldn't stand it at _The Burrow_ any longer. He also said his mother has changed so much that he doesn't know her anymore.'

Daphne and I exchanged a look. 'That fits with what George told us back in March,' she remarked.

'Unfortunately,' I nodded. 'Back then I thought she was still grieving for Fred, and probably extremely angry at me that I'd dumped Ginny. I know she had set her heart on Ginny and me getting married one day.' I messed up my hair with both hands in confusion. 'I never would've expected this.'

'Neither did I,' Hermione said softly, and leaned against Neville. 'Then came our unfortunate trip to Colombo. In hindsight, I have to say that Mrs Weasley was the driving force behind it. She was furious when we returned without you, Harry.' She worried her lower lips with her teeth. 'I was still shaken about what had happened, and when Professor McGonagall send me an owl to talk about my planned apprenticeship with her, I took the opportunity to leave _The Burrow_ and return to Hogwarts. The day before I left I discovered Mrs Weasley tampered with Ron's shampoo and mixed a Love Potion into it that bound me to him.'

I had no idea where my sudden worry for Hermione came from, but I asked, 'Does she know that you found out?'

She shook her head. 'No, I had a bad feeling about that, and kept quiet. For the same reason I didn't confront Ron,' she said, thus confirming my worry. 'But that's not all.' She exchanged a look with Neville. Again, he put an arm around her. 'Just go ahead with your story,' he encouraged her.

Hermione took a deep breath and looked into my eyes. 'Two weeks after I had returned to Hogwarts I found out that I am pregnant.'

My wife gave me a smug side glance, the words " _Told you so!_ " written all over her face, while I said, 'We supposed as much.'

Hermione looked taken aback. 'You knew?'

'"Suspected" is more like it,' I corrected her. 'Daphne made the conclusion by the way you looked and when the herbal tea nauseated you.'

'Oh.' Hermione's fingers played with the hem of her robes. 'You are not scandalised?' she asked when she finally looked up.

I shrugged my shoulders. 'There are worse things in this world than a baby out of wedlock,' I told her.

A bright smile appeared on Hermione's face. 'Thank you, Harry,' she said. Then she turned to Neville. 'See? I told you that Harry wouldn't be shocked about me being pregnant without being married.'

Neville looked as if he was going to reply, but Daphne was faster.

'That's because Harry grew up in the Muggle world, like you, Hermione. It's not a big deal for Muggles anymore, but I can assure you that being an unmarried mother in the magical world is not a bed of roses.'

Hermione's expression had become downright obstinate while Daphne talked.

'That's so nineteenth century,' she began, but was interrupted by Neville. 'I told you so, Hermione,' he said and threw his hands up in frustration. 'You'd better listen to Daphne, if you don't want to believe me.'

Daphne regarded Hermione with a look full of sympathy. 'Getting a baby out of wedlock is the worst thing that can happen to a girl in our society,' she informed Hermione. 'Usually these things are hushed up, and a quick marriage is arranged. But after what you've told us I suppose you don't want to marry Weasley, and I can't blame you on that. Does he even know he's going to become a father?'

Hermione shook her head at that. 'No, and if I'll have my way, he never will. I don't trust Mrs Weasley. She'll try to get me and the baby under her thumb. In her present state I can't let that happen.'

I couldn't blame her on that decision, and by the looks on Daphne and Neville's face I could see they at least agreed with that part of Hermione's reasoning. However, by the way Daphne worried her lips between her teeth and shot sympathetic glances at Hermione, I knew that was only one part of the picture.

Neville turned to Daphne 'I offered her a marriage contract.'

I jumped, but Daphne didn't look surprised.

Hermione whirled around. 'And I told you that it's sweet of you, Neville, and that you're a better friend than I deserve, but that I can't accept your offer. I don't want you to bind yourself in a loveless marriage for the rest of your life, considering that magical vows are binding.'

By the dejected look on Neville's face I doubted that the marriage he had offered to my best friend was loveless on his side, but of course Hermione was not in the shape to see that. Instead, she seemed to be on one of her rolls about the backwardness of the magical society.

'Shut up, Granger!' Daphne interrupted her.

Hermione gaped, but the words that obviously were at the tip of her tongue never left her mouth when she saw the angry expression on Daphne's face.

'I know what you're going to say, and I can't say I disagree with you,' my wife said, while she smiled at Hermione in a way that took the sting out of her harsh interruption. 'However, your passionate rant can't negate the fact that the magical world still is very different from the Muggle world. If you want to stay in the magical world, you have to play by the rules, like it or not.'

Hermione huffed at that, but Daphne didn't give her the chance to interrupt her. 'You told us that Professor McGonagall offered you an apprenticeship. Well, I don't know how far you're along, but she will be forced to terminate your contract as soon as your pregnancy becomes obvious. The board of governors will see to that: they won't tolerate an unmarried, obviously pregnant young witch living and working at a school full of innocent young witches and wizards. Even if Professor McGonagall doesn't want to, she has no other choice. Her own reputation isn't strong enough to survive such a scandal, and she would also lose her job.'

She paused and let her words sink in.

'I told you so,' Neville said, but Hermione still looked obstinate.

'You also don't understand the implications of what Neville offered you,' Daphne went on. 'He offered you a marriage contract, but not to marry you: that's a huge difference.'

Hermione looked puzzled, but after our discussions at the _Princess Isabella_ the day we decided to marry I knew where Daphne was heading.

'There are different ways to get married in the magical world,' I explained to Hermione, who still didn't understand. 'You can have magical binding vows, like Bill and Fleur have. You can also have a Muggle wedding, or a marriage contract. Daphne and I had a Muggle wedding, and Neville offered you a marriage contract. The difference between these two options and magical binding vows is that there is a way out: you can have a Muggle divorce or mutually terminate the contract.'

Neville nodded to that. 'On the plus side, any child born within the duration of the contract would count as a legitimate child of the husband.' He let his words sink in.

'I had no idea about that,' Hermione said, still looking flabbergasted.

'Well, you never let me finish my explanations,' Neville replied drily, but the amusement in his voice was evident.

I snorted at that, and Daphne had to avert her face to hide her laughter. She scrambled to her feet and held her hand out to me to haul me up from the ground. 'Well, that were surely interesting news you had for us today, Hermione. I guess you and Longbottom have a lot to talk about right now, so Harry and I will take our leave.'

Both Hermione and Neville turned beet red at her words, but made no objections.

I sniggered while I also got to my feet, ignoring the glares my two fellow Gryffindors sent at me.

'Send me an owl if you need anything, Hermione,' I told her. 'We'll talk about when and how best to restore the memories of your parents after Memorial Week.'

She nodded to hat, but her eyes were focussed on Neville. It was plain to see that right now she had something else on her mind.

Still chuckling to myself, I lead my wife to the gates of the castle.

t.b.c.


	3. Monday, May 3rd 1999

Breakfast was ready when Daphne and I came down to the kitchen at an unholy early time on Monday. We had agreed to meet with Mr Weasley and Bill at the Leaky Cauldron before they had to go to work.

Daphne was unresponsive, as always in the early mornings. She poured herself a mug of tea and took the first sip, her eyes not yet fully open. The instant transformation her face went through was hilarious: the grumpy lines on her face were smoothed out as if by magic, and the corners of her mouth turned up.

However, I knew better than to talk to her yet, so I picked up the copy of the _Daily Prophet_ Kreacher had put beside my plate, and unfolded it.

I was greeted by my picture that covered the bigger part of the front page. It must have been taken right after I'd put up the candles for my parents: my eyes looked dark and unfocused, and I had my fists clenched. The headline above the article that came with the photo was in typical _Prophet_ -style:

_**Chosen One Pays His Respects to the Fallen** _

I skimmed the article, sure there wasn't anything of interest in it. One paragraph, however, caught my attention, and I began to read the article:

_Though the alleged mass-murderer Sirius Black has been cleared of all accusations by the Wizengamot a few weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts, many wizards and witches felt it inappropriate that he was honoured by the Chosen One during the service. It is not common knowledge that late James and Lily Potter appointed Black as the godfather of their only son, and his guardian in case of their untimely death. In this light, it of course behoved the Saviour of the Wizarding World to pay his respects to a man who has been wrongly imprisoned and hunted by the magical world._

_Even stranger than this, however, was the gesture of honour the Chosen One paid to a house elf. This reporter has not yet been able to discover the connection between the Chosen One and the elf in question, but is still working on it. The_ Daily Prophet _will keep its faithful readers informed as soon as our investigations bear fruit._

_However, the fact that The Chosen One neglected to show the slightest gesture of acknowledgement to Albus Dumbledore, the man who sat his feet onto the path to the destruction of Tom Riddle - as the Chosen One himself admitted in a press conference immediately after the Battle of Hogwarts - was ill received by the attendees of the Memorial Service. It was left to Aberforth Dumbledore…_

I put the newspaper down with a shake of my head. The Memorial Service had been held for the relatives of the fallen. There was no family connection between the Potters and the Dumbledores, so it had not been my place to remember Albus Dumbledore. It was different with Sirius and Dobby: Sirius had been my godfather and guardian, and I was sure Dobby had bonded with me at one point, though he never told me.

However, the article made me think about my relationship with Dumbledore, no matter how unwelcomed these thoughts were.

I'd looked up to Dumbledore from my first day on at Hogwarts. It wasn't that surprising: I'd been an impressionable eleven year old who had just been introduced to the strange and wonderful magical world, a place where for the first time in my life I was not considered a freak and ridiculed. My first ideas of this world had been deeply influenced by Hagrid. I took his statements at face value, for no other reason that he was the first adult who was friendly to me and answered my questions. By now I knew it didn't speak for my emotional and intellectual development during my Hogwarts years that I never thought of questioning Hagrid's view on Dumbledore, and by default my own. Not once I made the effort to learn more about the new world I'd been thrust into, but was content with the snippets I picked up here and there while growing up. Nobody else was to be blamed for that omission than myself.

My idealised picture of Dumbledore had got first cracks when he left me hanging to dry in my fifth year. However, even after Sirius's death I not once faltered in my loyalty towards him, although in hindsight I should've asked myself what sick game the old man was playing by withholding vital information from me, thus leading me to wrong conclusions that cost Sirius' life in the end…

Daphne's voice startled me out of my morose thoughts. 'You look as if the _Prophet_ printed something you don't like.'

I looked up. She had her elbows propped up on the table, her mug with tea held in both hands, and regarded me with concerned eyes.

I forced a smile on my lips. 'Not so much something I don't like, but something that got me thinking.'

She gave me a contemplative gaze over the rim of her mug, but - as always - left it at that. She knew I'd come to her and talk when I was ready.

I leafed through the paper in an attempt to hide my face from my much too observant wife, while I still thought about my relationship to Dumbledore. We'd come the closest during my sixth year: he had trusted me with the information he had collected about Voldemort, thus equipping me with the means to destroy the monster. When Dumbledore died, I felt obliged to follow this path.

My trust in Dumbledore had waned once again when I discovered the scheme for _The Greater Good_ he had developed together with Grindelwald.

Then came that moment during the Battle, when I watched Snape's memories in the Pensieve, and found out what an outrageous sacrifice was demanded of me. I'd submitted myself to the demand, of course; at that point there'd been no other way to get rid of Voldemort. Nevertheless, when everything was over, I couldn't help but wonder if there really hadn't been no other way than to set me up as the proverbial sacrificial lamb.

When I talked about that to Mr Freid during one of my therapie lessons, he explained the concept of Machiavellism to me. The discovery of the machiavellist behind Dumbledore's benevolent, grandfatherly appearance made me violently sick. I still hadn't made up my mind whether to hate the man or to be thankful for his guidance.

I knew it wasn't very smart to take that special trip down on memory lane shortly before a very difficult meeting, so I scanned the _Prophet_ for something to distract me. I found it on page three, in the gossip column: a rather amusing article that speculated if the flash quite a number of witches claimed to have seen coming from Daphne's left hand during the Memorial Service had been caused by an engagement ring. The opinions of the witches who gave their statement in that article were rather divided on that topic.

I folded the newspaper with a grin on my face and put it beside my plate. The magical world would be in for another heated discussion after Wednesday, when Daphne's new name was revealed.

Daphne and I finished our breakfast in silence; Daphne because it still was too early for her to be talkative; I because I tried to prepare for the meeting ahead of me.

Unlike yesterday, we'd both dressed in smart Muggle business attire today, since we both had to look after the Muggle parts of our holdings after our meeting with the Weasleys. So, we were able to leave our house and amble over the street towards the garden of the square without having to put Notice-Me-Not Charms on us. Daphne Apparated us to a side alley of Charing Cross Road, in close proximity to the Leaky Cauldron.

'It's the common Apparition point for wizards and witches who want to Apparate to Diagon Alley,' she told me, while she pulled deep blue business robes over her grey pant suit. I also pulled the shrunken business robes I carried with me out of the pocket of my suit pants. Daphne had suggested wearing them over our Muggle clothing for the meeting with the Weasleys: we'd raise less attention that way as if we were to enter the pub in Muggle clothes.

I've no idea if it was due to the robes or the unholy early hour, but hardly one of the few customers of the pub looked up when we entered the taproom. Daphne went over to Tom to ask for a private room and ordered tea and biscuits for four.

A few moments later we found ourselves in a long and narrow room off the taproom. A long, dark table took up most of the space, surrounded by a dozen of high-backed chairs that were cushioned in red plush with golden tassels. Like in the bedroom on the first floor, the furniture gleamed, and the whole room smelled slightly of furniture polish. The opposite wall was dominated by a huge fireplace with a merrily crackling fire. Two small windows looked out on Charing Cross Road. Due to the grimy appearance of the pup at the Muggle side they let in very little light, and thanks to excellent Silencing Charms on the windows the noise of the busy street hardly could be heard inside the room.

Daphne and I took a seat at the head of the table, near the fireplace. I shifted in my seat and tapped my fingers on the polished surface of the table. Images of at least half a dozen possible outcomes of the talk taunted me, one more disastrous than the other.

My wife put her hand on mine. 'Stop fidgeting, love. You'll do fine.'

I was just about to utter my doubts about that, when there was a knock on the door, and Mr Weasley and Bill came into the room, in time with the tea Daphne had ordered. They both didn't smile and their posture was tense, as if they expected an attack - or a very unpleasant talk. Well, that was something we had in common.

Daphne and I both rose from our seats to greet our guests.

Their eyes widened for a short moment when Daphne stepped beside me and took my arm, and they exchanged a quick look that only could be described as apprehensive. Daphne had told me that meetings like this were limited to the heads of houses and their heirs - or their wives, as long as there wasn't a heir old enough to attend to such a meeting. Her presence at this meeting was a dead give away we were already married, even though we'd not yet made a public announcement. Given Mrs Weasley and Ginny's behaviour towards my wife when we ran into each other yesterday, their concern was understandable.

I stepped forward, aware of the curious, yet covert glances Hannah Abbott gave us while she put the cups and teapot on the table.

'Mr Weasley, it's good to see you again,' I said, a forced smile on my lips, and held my hand out.

He took it with a firm grip and a smile that was as forced as mine, and put his other hand on my shoulder. 'Welcome back to England, Harry. It's about time we meet again - although I would've hoped we'd met in happier circumstances,' he added in a low voice, mindful of Hannah's strained ears. He gave my shoulder a squeeze and stepped aside to make room for Bill.

'Good morning, Harry,' Bill said and pulled me in a one armed hug with lots of shoulder slapping. He drew back and looked at me from head to toe. 'You're looking good: travelling obviously suits you,' His grin didn't reach his eyes: he put on a show to distract Hannah, and I answered in kind.

Hannah left the room - finally -, and I pulled Daphne to my side. 'Daphne, let me introduce you to two of my oldest friends, Arthur Weasley, and his heir, Bill Weasley. Mr Weasley, Bill: this is my wife, Daphne Potter.'

They showed no sign of surprise, bowed over Daphne's hand and kissed her knuckles as it was custom, and offered their congratulations to both of us. However, it was plain to see their minds were occupied elsewhere.

I ushered them to the head of the table where they sat down opposite of Daphne and me. While Daphne poured our tea, I went over possible ways to begin the conversation. To be honest, I hadn't done little else since we left Grimmauld Place, but yet had to come up with a start that didn't feel absolutely inappropriate or awkward.

Daphne put the teapot back on the table; Mr Weasley and Bill looked at me expectantly. My mouth went dry, and I had to gulp several times while my brain refused to form words. The silence stretched on until it became uncomfortable.

My wife took my hand and interlaced her fingers with mine. 'Stop trying to make speeches, Harry. These are your friends. You can talk openly.'

'Right.' I relaxed, returned the soft pressure of her hand, and slipped my wand out of its holster and cast strong Privacy Charms on the walls, on the doors and the windows. With a deep breath, I turned to our guests. 'Mr Weasley, Bill - this isn't easy for me, as you can see. There've been a few… incidents… you need to know.'

Mr Weasley let out a deep sigh. He slumped in his seat and shared a look with Bill. 'Who is it - Ron, Ginny, or my wife?' His voice sounded resigned, while Bill pressed his lips into a hard, thin line.

'Ginny,' I replied, 'and Ron, though to a lesser extend.'

'What have they done?' Bill asked.

I started with the encounter we had with Ron in front of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes in March. When I described how Daphne disarmed Ron in the end, Bill again pressed his lips together. However, the amused glitter in his eyes gave him away.

'What a moron.' He shook his head. Mr Weasley looked as if he agreed, but didn't comment.

'Well, that's Ron for you,' I replied. 'I wouldn't have lost a word about it; afterall, Daphne made him a laughing stock, if not something had happened I can't sweep under the rug.'

I took another deep breath. If there was an easy way to tell a man who'd never been anything but kind to you about the way his wife and youngest two children had treated Daphne and me, I didn't know about it that morning. I launched into the tale about the events in Columbo, from the moment we noticed the uninvited guests in our suite, to the way Ron and Ginny had insulted Daphne, the Killing Curse Ginny had cast at Daphne, and her attempt to throttle her when we found out her hair was covered in a Love Potion. From there I skipped to what Hermione had told us yesterday about Mrs Weasley adding a Love Potion to her shampoo.

The faces of both men became paler with every word I said.

'I had no idea,' Mr Weasley whispered.

Bill cleared his throat. 'Why didn't you inform the Aurors?'

'You remember what happened to Ginny during her first year?' I asked.

Mr Weasley's face froze; he lowered his gaze and shifted in his seat, but didn't answer.

'Ginny was ill and missed a lot of her classes,' Bill said, a frown on his face. 'That was most unfortunate, since she never caught up.'

I looked at him. 'That's all you know about that year?'

'Why, yes; is there more to know?'

The expression on my face must have given him the answer, because he gripped the handle of his teacup until his knuckles stood out white and turned to his father. 'What happened during Ginny's first year you didn't tell us?'

Mr Weasley winced, his gaze still lowered to the polished surface of the table. 'Ginny was possessed by a soul fragment of Voldemort,' he said at length. The words were barely audible.

Every drop of blood seemed to drain off Bill's face. He slumped forward, propped his elbows on the table, and buried his face in the palms of his hands. 'Oh, sweet Morgana!'

Mr Weasley still didn't look up.

Daphne and I waited in the strained silence until Bill had regained his composure. When he finally pulled his hands from his face, his eyes were bloodshot. He opened his mouth, but no word came out. He cleared his throat and tried again. 'Why didn't you tell us, dad? At least Charlie and me?' His voice was unsteady.

Mr Weasley raised his head and looked at his heir. 'Your mother… she was afraid it would spread and endanger Ginny's chances to contract a decent marriage.'

Some colour returned into Bill's face and he let out a huff. 'I know my mother still lives in the last century, given her notions about how a girl should behave. However, I can't understand why you supported her in that. Did Ginny at least get treatment to overcome her ordeal?'

One look at his father's face told him what he wanted to know: the guilty expression on Mr Weasley's face was a dead give-away.

'Of course not.' Bill growled and leaned back in his chair, his arms folded in front of his chest. 'I suppose mother thought that also would endanger her chances with the male sex.'

Mr Weasley didn't answer to that, instead he seemed to retreat even more into himself.

Daphne gave me a slight nudge with her knee, and I took the silence that spread between Bill and Mr Weasley as my cue to continue my story. 'I discovered during the Battle that I also carried a soul fragment inside of me, albeit it wasn't as strong as the one Ginny had to deal with. Voldemort destroyed it as he attempted to kill me in the forest.'

Mr Weasley and Bill both startled and looked at me with wide eyes. If they realised I'd glossed over a lot of important facts, they didn't let on.

I took a sip of tea against the dryness of my mouth. 'As you can imagine, that's been a traumatic experience for me. I needed someone to talk about it after the Battle of Hogwarts, and Ginny was the most natural choice: she was my girlfriend and she'd made similar experiences. I thought she'd understand.' My voice faltered. Even though I'd put the past behind me and found true love with the woman beside me, the memory of that day still hurt.

Daphne leaned toward me and gave me a soft kiss on the cheek. I turned my head and smiled at her, once again thanking the deities that were for sending her into my life.

'It also was the most unfortunate choice: it turned out that Ginny never got over the trauma of her first year. When I told her I'd had a piece of Voldemort inside of me that didn't go down well.'

Bill let out a mirthless chuckle and scrubbed across his face with the palm of his right hand. 'I imagine; I think I've seen the outcome of that talk: she avoided you like the plague for the last two weeks before you left. Tell me, how did she react immediately after you'd opened up to her?'

There was no use in sugarcoating things. 'She threw up and recoiled from me. That put quite a damper on our relationship.'

Bill acknowledged my bad attempt of humour with a weak grin.

Mr Weasley reached across the table and squeezed my hand. 'I'm sorry, Harry. I'd always hoped…' His eyes flickered to Daphne. 'That's apparently out of the question now.'

'I'm also sorry, Mr Weasley. Believe me, I did everything to patch up things with her ... she wouldn't even stay in the same room with me. I … I needed some time until I came to the conclusion our relationship was truly over, and broke up with her.'

'I remember that day,' Bill said. 'She didn't take that well, either,'

That was an understatement. Ginny had screamed at me like a Banshee, and had cast her infamous Bat-Boogey-Hex at me. I'd repelled the hex with a flick of my wand; for some reason that had made her even angrier.

Bill shifted in his seat. 'While I'm appalled what has happened to my little sister and she never got treatment for that, I don't understand what that's got to do with your decision not to inform the Aurors, Harry.'

I shared a look with my wife.

'Harry and I think the trauma Ginny suffered in her first year at Hogwarts is at the root of her present behaviour,' Daphne said.

'You remember how she used to crush on me that year?' I added.

A faint smile appeared around Mr Weasley's mouth. 'I'll never forget that. You were both so embarrassed by each other and so cute.'

Heat shot into my cheeks. The low chuckle from my wife didn't help at all. 'If possible, her crush got even worse after I saved her from Voldemort at the end of her first year. All of her second year and a good deal of her third year she'd sit in our common room and follow me with her eyes. It was unnatural, almost like an obsession, and made me feel rather uncomfortable. I thought she'd finally got over me when she started dating Corner. Well, it turned out she'd moved on, but she'd never given up on me. At least that's what she said once.' I pulled at the collar of my dress shirt; Merlin, why had I to be the one who had to tell them?

Daphne took mercy on me. 'It must've been a dream come true for her when Harry finally noticed her. They started dating about two weeks before Dumbledore was killed, and everybody at school could see that Ginny was on cloud number nine. The more devastated she was when Harry broke up with her right after Dumbledore's funeral.'

'I didn't want to,' I said in a low voice. 'I had to, I didn't want her to become a target. I couldn't take her with me like Ron and Hermione, not with the Trace still on her.'

Daphne took my hand and laced her fingers with mine. 'When Harry returned to her the day after the Battle of Hogwarts, she probably thought she'd now have her happily ever after. It wasn't meant to be. Harry telling her about the soul piece of Voldemort he'd carried in him all these years must've brought back the suppressed trauma of her first year. She couldn't cope with the news, she couldn't even bare to touch Harry anymore, and yet she refused to let go of him. We think something broke in her that day.'

I took up from there. 'On my first day at sea I got a letter from Ginny. To be honest, I didn't want to read it, so I stashed it away and forgot about it. Daphne's mother had died the night before, and Daphne was in a state of shock. Frankly, I was more concerned about her than about Ginny.'

I shifted in my seat, worried how they would take that. Admittedly, I had been single for about half a year at that point, but I guess no father or brother likes to hear that you push their daughter, respectively sister, aside to take care of another woman. They both didn't seem to bother, and I let out a small breath, though Bill shot me a curious look. I didn't need to be a Legilimens to know he was wondering when and where Daphne and I had met, and how the death of Mrs Greengrass fitted into that.

'That's understandable,' he said, and motioned me with a gesture of his hand to continue.

'I didn't think about Ginny again until a couple of weeks later,' I said. 'She sent me another letter that I found quite disturbing.' I had no idea how to go on from here, I ran my hand through my hair, as if messing up my unruly mop even more would help me to order my train of thoughts. Amazingly enough, it did. 'She acted as if our break-up had been a misunderstanding; an insignificant lover's spat that could be mended easily. Worst of all, she acted as if everything had been my fault, and that it didn't take much more than me apologising to her, Ron and Hermione to set everything back to rights.'

Bill startled. 'Now, why would she do that, after she reacted that appalled to the news about the soul fragment of Voldemort inside of you?' he exclaimed.

'Exactly,' Mr Weasley nodded.

I shifted in my seat. How was I supposed to tell them that I suspected that Ginny had already begun to go around the bend back then?

Daphne came to my rescue, once again. 'When Harry finally talked to me about that letter, he said it seemed to him as if she was losing the grip on reality.'

Bill blanched. He covered his mouth with his hand, his eyes dark with worry, and cast a short look at his father, who seemed to be as shaken as he was.

Mr Weasley cleared his throat. 'When did you get that letter?'

The question caught me unawares. To be honest, I had hardly paid heed to the dates during our cruise. By the way Daphne furrowed her eyebrows in thought I could see she had the same problems.

'I think, the letter arrived shortly after we'd left San Francisco,' I said, and turned to Daphne, my eyebrows raised in a silent question.

Daphne nodded to that. 'Yes, that seems right to me. That was at the beginning of February.'

Mr Weasley and Bill shared another look. They neither seemed as surprised nor as angry about our accusation as I had feared. Could it be they had also witnessed the signs and drawn the same conclusions as Daphne and I had?

'That fits,' Bill said, 'That was about the time we noticed how strange mother and Ginny were behaving,' and Mr Weasley nodded.

'How did you react to that letter?' Mr Weasley asked.

'At first, I did nothing,' I said. 'About two weeks later, however, I wrote back and told her to move on, for her own sake.'

For the second time that morning Bill chuckled mirthlessly. 'So, that was the mysterious letter that caused the big outburst on Ron's birthday. Oh my.' Once again, he scrubbed his face with the palm of his hand. 'Did she write again after that?'

'I got a Howler,' I admitted.

Mr Weasley almost jumped in his seat. 'On a Muggle cruise ship? How were you able to cover that up?'

'The goblins gave me a Banishing Box. Howlers and other unpleasant mail are filtered out.'

'Right,' Mr Weasley breathed a sigh of relief.

I didn't tell him that I had also got a Howler from his wife that day. Instead I said,

'A couple of days later I got a letter from Hermione. In that letter she begged me to return to Ginny.'

I sighed and exchanged a look with my wife. Her eyes told me she remembered that day as well as I did.

'I wrote her back I couldn't see a future for Ginny and me and asked her to make Ginny see reason. I thought Ginny and Hermione would accept my decision after that and leave me alone.' I snorted. 'Fat chance; instead it became worse.' I had drained my cup of tea during my narrative, and found it impossible to go on without a cup I could hold to if things became too uncomfortable, so I pulled the teacan towards me and poured myself another cup. 'Rita Skeeter had followed us while we were in Sydney. I guess you've seen that article she wrote about Daphne and me.'

Mr Weasley and Bill nodded to that. Bill had a broad grin on his face that made me want to flip him the bird. However, Daphne would want to have my hide for that, so I refrained from that childish action.

'Daphne and I both had to interrupt the cruise around the middle of March, and returned to England.' I turned my head to my wife and smiled at her. That had been the worst time of my life, but it had soon turned out to be the beginning of the happiest time in my life.

Daphne kept a bland face, but the corners of her mouth turned slightly upward, and she once again gave me that special look that was only reserved for me.

'George told us he met you in Diagon Alley,' Mr Weasley's voice broke into my memories.

'Uh - right,' I said. Warmth crept into my face at being caught lost in memories. 'That also was the day of our little encounter with Ron. We had a short chat with George, and he told us how worried he was about Ginny, his mother and Ron. From what he told us, they all seemed to behave rather out of character, especially the way Mrs Weasley acted.' I avoided looking at Bill and Mr Weasley. Damn, this didn't get any easier as I progressed with my story, just the contrary.

Mr Weasley and Bill exchanged another look. The grim, hard line around Bill's mouth appeared once again, while Mr Weasley slumped back in his seat and seem to age in front of my eyes.

'That's putting it mildly,' Bill said with clenched teeth. He palmed his face in his hands and rubbed it, muttering softly to himself.

'Grief can do strange things to people,' Daphne tried to console him.

Bill pulled his hands away with a harsh laugh and looked at Daphne. 'True, but I never would've imagined that it'll destroy our family.'

Of course, I knew what he was alluding to; the talk we had had with Hermione the previous day was still fresh on my mind. I admit, I rather would have faced the Hungarian Horntail once again than to have this talk with Bill and Mr Weasley. I took another deep breath, summoned all my courage, and looked at Mr Weasley.

'Hermione told us what happened before she left _The Burrow_. I - I'm sorry, sir.'

The lines of sadness and defeat in his face deepened, but he nodded in acknowledgement of my words.

An uncomfortable silence descended on the room, in which the faint noises of the talks and laughter from the taproom and the traffic on Charing Cross Road seemed to be unnaturally loud. Daphne gave me another small nudge with her knee, reminding me why we were here. I cleared my throat and continued our story.

'Daphne and I went back on board of the _Princess Isabella_ in Hong Kong. A day later or so I got another disturbing letter from Ginny. It accused me of cheating on her with Daphne, and talked about a bond Ginny and I shared. I have no idea what else was in that letter: I was rather angry about it and vanished it.'

'That's not the whole truth, love,' my wife interjected. 'You crumpled the letter to a ball, and it vanished from the palm of your hand in a bout of accidentally magic.'

Once again, my face became warm, but thankfully neither Bill nor Mr Weasley paid heed to my embarrassment.

Bill's eyebrows shot up. 'Was it that bad? What the hell had got into her?'

I took a sip from my tea to regain my composure. At Bill's words, I put the cup back onto the saucer and nodded in agreement.

'That were exactly our thoughts. Another letter I got from Hermione on the same day shed some light on the matter. It seemed that Ginny had told her and Ron…' Once again, the heat shot into my cheeks, and I found myself unable to go on.

Daphne took mercy on me. She pressed my hand, gave me a small smile, and turned to Bill and Mr Weasley. 'In her letter, Hermione accused Harry of having talked Ginny into sleeping with him, and turning his back on her as soon as he got what he wanted.'

My cheeks probably were crimson by then; they burnt so hot. I squared my shoulders and looked Mr Weasley and Bill into the eyes. 'I never touched her that way,' I told them, though I had no hope that they would believe me.

I couldn't trust my ears when Mr Weasley exchanged another look with his heir, and they both began to chuckle. That was not what I'd expected. I exchanged a quick look with Daphne. She looked as surprised as I felt by their unexpected reaction.

'My wi... - Molly is very protective of Ginny. After all, she's our only daughter. From the day she was born, Molly used to dream of the wonderful future she expected for her daughter,' Mr Weasley said. He gave me an apologising look. 'I swear, she had Ginny's wedding to the Boy-Who-Lived planned out in every detail by the time Ginny turned six.' He fidgeted with the spoon on his saucer, obviously collecting his thoughts, and then continued, 'When Ginny left for Hogwarts, Molly insisted on putting a Virginity Ward on her. She got even stricter with that demand as soon as Ginny began dating boys. In Molly's view of the world a girl who's not pure on her wedding day is the biggest imaginable disgrace.'

I grimaced inwardly at his words, remembering the talk I had about this topic with Daphne.

Mr Weasley gave me a helpless look. 'You know how my w… - Molly is, Harry. It was no use fighting with her over this topic, so I let her have her way. But I can assure you that the wards still were in place by the time we returned to _The Burrow_ after the Battle.' A small grin appeared on his face. 'To make a long story short, Harry: even if you'd tried something, you wouldn't have come very far; the ward saw to that.'

'That's why you never challenged Harry,' Daphne exclaimed. 'I'd been wondering about that: Hermione, Ron, and in the beginning even George seemed to believe what Ginny told them. Even though you don't care much about Pureblood conduct, this was such a serious accusation that you ought to have challenged Harry, had you believed it to be true.' Her forehead wrinkled in thought. 'What I don't get: after what George and Hermione told us, and the way she acted, Mrs Weasley also seemed to believe that Harry had… uh… sampled the goods without being entitled to that. But she had to know it wasn't true.'

I nodded to that.

Mr Wesley and Bill shared another look. Mr Weasley took deep breath. 'You wouldn't know it, Harry, but my wi… Molly, well, she -' He interrupted himself and blinked a few times. When he went on, his voice was unsteady. 'You wouldn't know it, Harry, but Molly has changed a lot since you've left _The Burrow._ She isn't the woman you knew anymore. The loss of F-fred has made her spiteful, and she wants to punish those she thinks responsible for that.' His eyes didn't meet mine.

Beside me, Daphne made an involuntary sharp move and gasped. 'You mean, she blames Harry, don't you?'

Mr Weasley nodded, though his eyes still evaded mine. He gulped and opened his mouth as if to speak, but instead covered his eyes with his hand and shook his head.

Bill put his hand on his father's shoulder in silent comfort. 'She thinks the Weasley family, and especially she, Ron and Ginny are entitled to - uh, how to put that? - compensation from you because of the losses we've suffered. A few days after the battle she demanded from dad that he'd negotiate a marriage contract between you and Ginevra -'

'How could I do that?' Mr Weasley said and looked up. 'I have no doubt you would've agreed, Harry, as besotted as you were with Ginny, not to mention that you felt guilty about F-fred and would've done anything I asked of you. I couldn't exploit your feelings like that. Molly got furious when I told her. She became even worse when it became apparent that your and Ginny's relationship wouldn't last, and on the day you left _The Burrow_ …' He broke up, and once again shook his head in a helpless gesture.

Bill picked up from there. 'Right from the day you've left I had the impression that something in Ginevra's behaviour didn't add up. I've seen how she seemed to avoid you during the last two weeks before your breakup, and yet she was heartbroken and talked about little else than how to get you back. Our mother encouraged her.'

'Molly demanded to call you out because of your breakup. Of course I refused. It was plain to see that she was still beside herself with grief and not the woman anymore we all used to know and loved.' Mr Weasley shrugged his shoulders in a helpless gesture. 'The things she called me after that … Needless to say our marriage took a turn to the south from that day on, and it doesn't seem as if we'll ever recover from that.' He propped his elbows on the table and buried his face in the palms of his hands.

His son put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. 'From that day on, we couldn't get to m… Molly anymore. It's as if she lives in a parallel reality, and is kept alive only by her hatred on you for the perceived slights on our family, Harry. Even worse, she'd got Ginevra and Ron under her influence. At first, George too, but when he overcame the first stages of grief and decided to live for F-fred's memory, he quickly became as appalled by her behaviour as the rest of us and moved out.'

Mr. Weasley lowered his hands and looked at us with moist eyes. 'Molly took our family grimoire out of our vault. She spent her days locked into our bedroom, pouring over old potions recipes my ancestors had developed. It became an obsession for her, and she drew Ginny into it. I tried to break her out of it, even took the grimoire away …' He shook his head. 'She hexed me. I had to spend three days at St Mungo's. Unfortunately, I had no other place to return to than _The Burrow_ , but I moved my things out of our bedroom when I did. I don't thing I've spoken more than ten words with either Molly, Ginny or Ron since then.'

Bill gave his father's shoulder another squeeze. 'You know you're welcome to stay with Fleur and me at Shell Cottage anytime, dad.'

Mr Weasley gave him a thankful smile and shook his head. 'An old man like me doesn't mix well with a young couple, son.'

Bill huffed at that, but decided not to press the matter. Instead he turned to me. 'We digress. I suppose your story doesn't end at that?'

I shook my head. 'Unfortunately, no. There were daily letters from then on, each one full of imagined sexual encounters between Ginny and me. They were disgusting, however, eventually the tone of the letters changed. They became creepy, threatening even. Frankly, I'm afraid Ginny will try to kill Daphne, and probably also harm me, at the first chance she gets.'

Father and son exchanged a look, though, they didn't seem to be surprised about my fears.

Mr Weasley heaved a big sigh. 'I'd also be afraid. Thank you for telling us instead of involving the Aurors. What do you want us to do?'

The tension left me all of a sudden, and warmth spread through my body. I gave Mr Weasley my first, genuine smile of the day. He'd probably never know how I thankful I was for the opening he gave me.

'I think Ginny needs help instead of punishment. I want her to get treatment; I know an excellent Squib psychotherapist, and I'm willing to fund the bills, if there's a problem. She and Ron also need to be removed from the influence of their mother, I think. It's safe to say Mrs Weasley helped Ginny and Ron using Love Potions on Hermione and me, and Hermione told us she was the driving force behind their visit to Colombo; in her current state I wouldn't put it past her she also tries to influence her youngest children with, uh, questionable means.'

Bill sagged in his chair and let out deep breath; Mr Weasley, however, avoided my eyes. He shook his head as if in denial, and a long sigh escaped his lips.

'Thank you, Harry, I really appreciate your offer. Given what Ginny did to your future wife, the offer is much more than she deserves. However, I'll need Ginny's consent to the treatment and her moving out of _The Burrow_. Molly will also have to have her say. I doubt either Ginny or Molly will show regret or even a willingness to take your offer, and I doubt Ron will be willing to leave _The Burrow,_ either.'

'You can order them as their head of house,' Bill said. 'However, they can't be so deluded to think they'd get away with Ginny casting the Killing Curse.'

Again, Mr Weasley shook his head. 'Bill, you've seen how they are, how far they've moved from us. I doubt they'll bow to my authority any longer.'

'Then cast them out,' Bill said. It was a brutal suggestion, and Mr Weasley flinched at his words, still, I couldn't blame Bill, I'd also have considered that step in his place.

However, did Mr Weasley have the guts for such a drastic step? After everything I'd seen of him today I doubted that. He was a kind man, too kind probably, he'd never reigned in his wife or his children. Following Bill's suggestion was out of character for him.

Daphne must have come to the same conclusion. She cleared her throat and leaned forward. 'You may tell your daughter and Mrs Weasley that Ginny getting treatment is not up for negotiations. It's either that, or Ginny will have to face persecution. Harry and I have collected evidence right after the incident. I'm afraid, we'll have to hand that evidence to the Aurors if Ginny doesn't comply.'

Mr Weasley jumped as if bitten, then he slumped again in defeat. 'Of course, I can't blame you for that. I'll tell them.'

He got to his feet. Everything about him betrayed defeat, like a man who knew that he was going into a battle he was going to lose.

I shared some of his forebodings. Ron, Ginny and their mother were all stubborn and temperamental. It would be hard to get them to change their course when their minds were made up.

Mr Weasley held out his hand to me. 'Thank you once again for talking to me first and not informing the Aurors.'

I had no idea what to answer to that, so I just nodded and shook his hand.

When he bowed over Daphne's hand, my wife said, 'I've been informed that the Minister appointed the Greengrass seat on the Wizengamot to you until my twenty-first birthday. I'm doing some research of the families behind hereditary seats right now and wonder if you'd let me access the records of the Wizengamot my father kept at his office in the Ministry?'

I had to bit on the inside of my cheek. Situations like this reminded me my wife was a Slytherin, her sweet and caring disposition notwithstanding. Like any Slytherin, she knew how to use an opportunity. There was no way Mr Weasley would deny her access to the records after the talk we just had had.

'Of course, my dear,' Mr Weasley said and patted her hand. 'Just send me an owl and I'll let you into the office.' He blushed under the broad smile of thanks Daphne gave him.

We left the room together. Mr Weasley Flooed to the Ministry; Bill gave both of us a handshake and a weak smile that told more than words how much my story had shaken him. He set off to the entry to Diagon Alley in a brisk pace.

Daphne and I followed him, although a great deal slower. The wall had already closed behind Bill again when we reached the backyard.

Daphne took my arm and snuggled against me while I counted the bricks. 'Do you think he'll be successful?'

I sighed and shook my head.

'You're afraid they are too stubborn, and Ginny and her mother have already drifted too far away, aren't you?' Daphne said.

Once again I was amazed how well she could read me, and I nodded.

Daphne squeezed my arm; there was nothing more to say on the topic.

We reached the entrance to Gringotts, and Daphne let go of my arm. 'Meet me for lunch at the Leaky Cauldron?' she asked.

I bent down to kiss her. 'You've got a date, Mrs Potter.'

We parted ways; I had an appointment with my manager at Gringotts, and Daphne walked further down the alley towards the offices of Greengrass Shipping. She'd told me during our last days on the _Princess Isabella that_ the offices were located at the end of Diagon Alley that was opposite to the Leaky Cauldron. Like the pub, the offices were one of the few places in the alley from where you could enter the Muggle world. There was also an enchanted brick wall in the backyard that served as a passage. From there you had access to the Muggle offices of Greengrass Shipping, which were on St. Martins Lane.

If Steelaxe, my goblin manager, was happy to see me, he hid it well. He was not happy when I told him about my marriage, and I had to suffer through a long lecture about the idiocy to marry without a proper prenuptial agreement.

He was even less impressed when I told him to make arrangements for a monthly payment into Daphne's vault. However, as my wife she was entitled to that by the Potter House Charta, so he could do nothing about it. That didn't keep him from grumbling and hissing under his breath while he filed out the paperwork for me to sign.

He perked up, however, when I told him to look into our shipping contracts and shift business to Greengrass Shipping. 'Of course they'll have to meet our standards, and their prices have to be within our limits,' I added, and was treated to the disconcerting sight of a goblin shaking with laughter.

'Of course,' he repeated. 'Might as well keep the gold within in the family.'

'Exactly,' I replied.

'You're a heir after your grandfather's heart, Harry,' he said. Meanwhile I knew that was high praise, and I thanked him accordingly.

We went through a few investments that had come up recently, and parted on best terms shortly before Daphne and my usual lunchtime.

She already waited for me at a table in a corner of the pub when I rushed into the tabroom. The pub was crowded, as usual at this time of the day, and of course many of the patrons recognised me when I weaved my way to my wife through the crowd. My shoulders burned from the many friendly slabs I received, and my right hand throbbed from all the handshakes. One elderly witch even went so far to hug me and kiss my cheek. I'm sure I still looked like a beacon when I finally slipped into the seat next to Daphne. Her amused smile didn't help to make me feel better.

'Did you enjoy your big entrance?,' she asked with a twinkle in her eyes and kissed me.

'Rub it in,' I said and rolled my eyes at her.

She pushed a bottle of Butterbeer towards me. I picked it up and took a long gulp to drown my embarrassment.

My wife watched me drinking, her elbows popped up on the table, and her chin rested on the backs of her neatly overlapping hands. 'Poor baby. Look at it from the bright side: if you were a Muggle rock star, the women would throw their knickers at you.'

I snorted, inhaled Butterbeer the wrong way, and spent the next minute coughing and spluttering.

'Steelaxe was right, you are a black widow,' I said when I was able to speak again.

'Excuse me?' She lowered her Butterbeer bottle and raised an inquiring eyebrow at me. 'Who is Steelaxe?'

'My goblin manager. He's afraid you've married me to get at my gold and warned me about black widows. Seems one Marie-Madeleine Zabini is especially skilled it that regard, he told me. Wasn't her son Blaise your housemate?'

Now it was Daphne's turn to splutter.

I still sniggered into my Butterbeer when Hannah served us some delicious smelling shepherd's pie.

Daphne picked up her cutlery, gave me a look that lent credence to Steelaxe's suspicion, and tucked into her lunch.

'I love you, too,' I said and followed her example.

Over the meal we talked about our respective mornings and our plans for the afternoon. I had another appointment, this time at my Muggle bank. Daphne had planned on having a first, tentative look at new furniture for Grimmauld Place, and returning early to prepare for our dinner with Kingsley and Hestia. However, that plans got cancelled.

'I got an owl from Hermione,' she told me. 'She wants to talk to me, to get a woman's point of view. That was a quote.'

I put my cutlery on my empty plate and wiped my mouth. 'Are you going to meet her?'

She nodded at that. 'She needs to make an informed decision soon. I doubt there's any other woman she feels comfortable enough to talk to.'

'That's nice of you, given how she behaved towards you in Colombo.'

Daphne shrugged. 'That's in the past, she apologised, and she meant it. Hermione is important to you, so I'd like to have a fresh start with her. Listening to her and giving her some advice when she's in a tight spot takes little effort on my part, but will take her and me far in becoming friends.'

My breath caught, and my heart made a somersault. If I weren't already deeply in love with her, I would've fallen for her head over heels there and then. I put my arm around her shoulder and pulled her towards me. 'Thank you; you're wonderful.'

Her cheeks glowed; she turned her head and gave me a soft kiss on the cheek. 'Take off your pink glasses, love; I'm not a saint. You also gave Tracey and Theodore a second chance, even though Theo treated you like scum at Hogwarts.' She gave me another peck and pulled away. 'I have to go, I'm afraid.'

I made a face at that, but signalled Hannah for the bill.

My appointment at the Muggle bank didn't last as long as my meeting with Steelaxe that morning. If my bank manager had reservations about my surprise marriage, he hid them well, and he expressed his thoughts on my lack of a prenuptial agreement much more politer than the goblin. We went on with our business; everything was alright, the only bit of news interesting to me was that I'd have to attend to a meeting at the headquarters of _Aurora Beauty_ in Paris on the sixth. That suited me just fine; I had already plans that included a short trip to Paris on Daphne's birthday that was on the seventh, anyway. I doubted she'd object if we had to leave for France one day sooner than I'd planned.

Daphne was not yet back when I returned to Grimmauld Place. Kreacher was puttering around in the kitchen. I'd never seen the old elf that happy and contend: he smiled and hummed a little tune while he chopped vegetables and dressed a chunk of meat for the pot roast he planned on serving for tonight's dinner.

I prepared myself a mug of tea; Kreacher wasn't impressed with my show of domestic independence, but didn't object, either, as busy as he was with the preparations for tonight's dinner. I snatched a few biscuits out of the tin in the pantry and settled down on the sofa in the family room.

While I sipped my tea and nibbled on the biscuits, I wondered how the talk between Daphne and Hermione was going. I was still trying to wrap my thoughts around the momentous news Hermione had told us yesterday.

Her breakup with Ron was unexpected, though not entirely surprising. I'd always suspected they were too different to last long, once the first fire had burnt out.

More surprising was the news that Hermione was pregnant; I'd never thought her the kind of woman to become pregnant as long as she hadn't finished her education and climbed a few steps on the ladder in her chosen career. However, the commonly known ways of magical contraception were anything but failproof, my knowledgeable wife had taught me, so I probably shouldn't be surprised, either. While Hermione would have done her part, I wouldn't put my chips on Ron having performed the additional spells correctly.

What I still couldn't fathom was the idea of Hermione and Neville being an item. Yet, the longer I thought about it, the more sense it made. They'd always got along well; Hermione and Neville had been friends before she became friends with Ron and me, and she'd turned towards him every time Ron and I behaved like typical teenage boys towards her. Hadn't she been the one he wanted to take to the Yule Ball?

There was no doubt Neville had feelings for Hermione. His feelings were returned, I knew Hermione well enough to be sure about that. Right now, however, she wasn't able to see the obvious, as troubled as she was by her pregnancy and her inability to reverse the Memory Charm she'd put on her parents.

Even more troubling were the repercussions her pregnancy out of wedlock could have for my best friend. I was only too familiar with Hermione's stubbornness; this was like S.P.E.W. all over: she'd rather go on a crusade for Witch's Liberation than to think of herself.

I was still racking my brain how to make her see reason when Daphne returned home.

She plopped down into the sofa next to me and kissed me. 'Seems like you missed me,' she said when we came up for air.

'Not more than you obviously missed me,' I replied and rested my chin on top of her head. 'Tell me, how did it go?'

Daphne huffed. 'Your friend is the typical stubborn Gryffindor. She's as bad as you: not an ounce of self-preservation.' She rolled her eyes at me. 'However, I think I made her see reason.'

I raised an eyebrow. 'You Stunned and Imperiused her?'

My ribs came into contact with my wife's sharp elbow, while Daphne snorted with laughter.

'You're such a prat,' she said when she'd calmed down. 'I did nothing like that, though I was tempted. I just pointed out that there's no need to become a martyr, she'd have plenty of time to fight against outdated notions that already belonged into the wastebin fifty years ago once the baby's born. I even offered her to support her in that fight as soon as I've taken my seat on the Wizengamot. I also told her you and Neville would most likely support us, and that she'd have a much bigger audience as Mrs Longbottom than as Miss Granger. That got her thinking.'

'Well done, love.' I bent down to give her a kiss in congratulations.

Daphne put her hand on my chest and forestalled me. 'Not so fast, love. There's still a problem.'

'And that is?'

'Neville told his grandmother about his plans. It seems Mrs Longbottom isn't excited about his plan.'

My insides became cold, and I gaped at Daphne. 'You must be joking, she never struck me as someone who'd raise objections if Neville married a Muggleborn.'

Daphne shook her head. 'I'm sure it's not that. Nevertheless, she's a Pureblood, and our traditions are precious to her. I think it bothers her Hermione has no one on by her side to negotiate and sign the contract. That makes her a nobody without standing. In the eyes of the light Pureblood families that'll reflect badly on Neville and the reputation of House Longbottom.'

I groaned. 'Another of those outdated notions. I bet that went over well with Hermione.'

My wife snuggled against me. 'Don't be daft, love. All she knows is that Neville's grandmother doesn't approve of her, and she's hesitant to take Neville's offer because of that. I'm not dumb enough to tell her about the reasons behind old Mrs Longbottom's reservations.'

'Thank Merlin!' I rolled my eyes heavenwards.

Daphne took a look at her wristwatch, straightened in my arms, and gave me a peck on the cheek. 'Come on, love, we'll need to get ready. Our guests will be here in not even an hour.'

I got to my feet and followed her out of the room. Daphne stopped in the kitchen to check on Kreacher and the progress of our dinner. By the delicious aroma of the potroast that wafted through the kitchen, and the adoring look Kreacher gave her, I decided she had everything well in hand and walked up to our bedroom.

While I took a shower and dressed, I couldn't get rid of the idea that Daphne had told me about Mrs Longbottom's reservations against the planned marriage contract for a reason. She'd hid it well, but the covert glance she'd given me when so got up to talk to Kreacher was a dead give away. We hadn't spent the last four months in close proximity for nothing: by now I could read her almost as well as she could read me. She expected me to do something to alleviate Mrs Longbottom's reservations, and if I wasn't mistaken, my sly wife expected me to solve the problem of my own, after all the tutoring she gave me about the wizarding world.

Bugger! I still was pants at things like that. Oh well, I would have to give the problem some more thought. I'd be damned if I disappointed Daphne's faith in me.

Daphne came into the bedroom when I was almost ready, took another look at her watch, shrieked, and dashed into the bathroom. Not even fifteen minutes later she came out, wrapped in a bathrobe, her hair done up and with perfect make-up, and vanished into the walk-in wardrobe.

I raised my eyebrows. 'I had no idea you could be that fast, love. On board you took at least thirty minutes to get ready for dinner.'

She came out of the wardrobe, now in a simple black sheath dress with matching high heels, stuck out her tongue at me and turned her back to me. 'Be a dear and pull up the zipper.'

'I'd rather not,' I said, complied nevertheless.

'You've got a one-track-mind,' my wife informed me. She took me by the arm and pulled me towards the door. 'Come on, our guests will be here any minute.'

Kingsley's face when I introduced Daphne as my wife was as priceless as Alveerah's when we told her about our wedding plans, and once again I cursed myself for not having thought of bringing a camera with me. I'm sure _The Daily Prophet_ would have paid me a small fortune for a photo of a gaping Minister for Magic, resplendent purple robes and all.

'Close your mouth, sweetheart,' Hestia chuckled. She came forward and hugged first Daphne, then me. 'My heartfelt congratulations to both of you. There's no need to ask you if you're happy, you're both glowing with happiness.'

Kingsley blinked, apparently he still needed some time to recover. He took Daphne's hand and gave her a formal bow and a kiss on the knuckles. 'My congratulations, Mrs Potter.'

'Call me Daphne, Minister. Harry told me everything about the plans you've made for the betterment of our society, so I expect we'll see a lot of each other in the next twenty years.'

Kingsley let out his booming laugh. 'Thank you, Daphne. Nothing of that "Minister" stuff; call me Kingsley.' He turned to me and gave me a slap on the shoulder that made my knees buckle. 'My congratulations.'

He stiffened, as if a sudden thought hit him, and turned back to Daphne. 'Wait, Daphne? As in formerly Daphne Greengrass?'

My wife nodded at that.

Kingsley's face sobered. 'I knew your father. It's a shame about him, he was one of the few honourable and incorruptible members of the Wizengamot.'

'Thank you, Kingsley,' Daphne said and bit her lips.

I put my arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer. 'You have to thank Daphne that I'm not as ignorant as a newborn about the ongoings of the Wizengamot anymore. Her father taught her well, and she took it upon herself to tutor me, though I still have a lot to learn.'

'Is that so?' Kingsley's gaze became calculating as he looked from me to Daphne. 'You wrote you have something important to discuss with me.'

'We have,' Daphne interrupted him. 'But let's eat first, and talk later. Potroast and politics don't mix well.'

We laughed and followed her into the kitchen. Over dinner, we had to tell Hestia everything about how we got together. She was also very interested in the many sights we'd seen during our cruise.

'That sounds lovely,' she said. 'I think I'd like a cruise for our honeymoon.'

Kingsley let out a fake sigh and mock-glared at me. 'Thank you very much for giving my fiancée ideas.'

We all laughed at that. Nevertheless, Hestia gave him a playful slap on the arm. 'You're supposed to fulfil my wishes, you know.'

Her fiancé wasn't deterred by that. 'Someone must've forgot to put that into the job description for future husbands when I proposed.'

Soon after we moved to the family room for coffee and desert.

'Tell me, what is it you want to discuss with me, Harry?' Kingsley asked as soon as Daphne had handed him a cup of coffee.

Hestia rolled her eyes at him, but kept her mouth shut.

I took a cup of coffee from Daphne and made myself comfortable beside her on the love seat. 'Well, something Daphne explained to me about the laws concerning the Wizengamot got me thinking.' I pulled out my wand, Summoned the list of the dark families that might have forfeited their seats because of the crimes of their Head of Houses from the desk in my study, and handed it to Kingsley.

He put his coffee cup on the low table between us, put on his glasses and studied the list for long, tantalising minutes. When he looked up, there was a broad grin on his face. 'That's brilliant, Harry. I don't doubt we'll be able to wrestle the seats from the majority of the families you've listed here, even if only for the time until the majority of the next heir. However, that enables us to get some much needed changes into motion.'

Daphne gave me a proud side glance. 'That's not yet everything,' she said to Kingsley. 'Harry also came up with an idea to get a few seats from the corruptible Ministry old-boy network. He plans on funding the hereditary test for all Muggleborns we can think of, in the hopes to find some of the heirs of the supposedly extinct families.'

'Don't sell yourself short, love,' I told her and hugged her to myself. 'You should see her research project on the original sixty family seats of the Wizengamot, and their heirs. We're positive the Ministry snatched a couple of seats they're not entitled to, especially under the Bagnold administration. If we can prove there are still heirs to the seats, we can cut off a lot of power from the old-boy network. That'll make your job at the Ministry easier.'

Kingsley gaped at us for a full minute. 'You're both unbelievable,' he said at length. 'How can I help you?'

'I need a list of all Muggleborn students of Hogwarts of the last eighty years,' I said.

Kingsley took a deep breath. 'It'll be on your desk tomorrow evening.'

_t.b.c._


	4. Tuesday, May 4th, 1999

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything belongs to J.K.R.

**Tuesday, May 4th 1999**

The bed next to mine was cold and empty when I opened my eyes on Tuesday morning. I sat up and looked for my wife in the grey light of the early morning that seeped into our bedroom through a slit between the velvet curtains. They were now a deep burgundy red, with silver tassels; Daphne had changed the colours with Kreacher's help before we went to bed on our first night back in England.

I almost overlooked her. Hidden by the shadow of the curtains, she huddled in one of the comfy armchairs next to the fireplace, her bare feet propped up and her arms slung around her knees. She'd rested her forehead on her knees and didn't raise her head when I walked towards her and put my hand on her shoulder. Through the thin silk of her nightgown her body was as cold as an icicle and as tense as a coiled spring.

How long had she waited alone in the darkness for the anniversary of the loss of her happy family to dawn?

'Daphne, sweetheart.' I sat down on the armrest beside her and slipped my arms around her shoulders. 'Please, look at me.'

She raised her head and turned her face up to me. Even in the dim grey light of the early morning the tear tracks on her cheeks were hard to miss. She buried her head in my chest, and my heart broke for her. What was I supposed to tell her to make her feel better, to ease a pain I knew from my own experience that had no cure? Actions always spoke louder than words, so I pulled her towards me and held her in a tight hug.

We sat like that until the first rays of sunshine found their way through the slit between the curtains. Daphne raised her head and gave me a weak smile. 'Thank you, Harry,' she said in a low voice.

I dropped a kiss on her forehead. 'Anytime, my love.'

We got ready for the day in an unnatural silence. Neither of us was up to the light banter that was so typical for our conversations. The silence continued over breakfast. I pretended to concentrate on _The Daily Prophet_ to give Daphne the space she needed, although I observed her all the time over the rim of the newspaper as she sipped her tea and toyed with some toast until she'd shred it into crumbs.

'I'd like to visit _Grenian House_ and the grave of my father today,' she said at length.

I folded the newspaper and put it beside my plate. 'Of course, love, whenever you're ready.'

She took a deep breath. 'What about right now? I guess there's no right time for that, anyways.'

We left the house and walked to the small garden in the middle of Grimmauld Place. Daphne's hand was cold in mine. Hidden from prying Muggle eyes behind the shrubbery of the garden, she told me to hold on to her arm and Apparated us away.

I'd thought I knew what to expect from what Daphne had told me about the destruction of her childhood home. I was wrong, her words hadn't been adequate to describe the sight that met my eyes when we appeared at the former site of _Grenian House._

We'd arrived on a circular place in front of where once the main entrance to the house must have been, I guess. Just like Daphne had told me, the chimneys were still intact and stood out of the huge pile of debris like ghost fingers. There were scraps of colourful brocade with golden threads between the rubble, and here and there the remains of what looked like the leg of a gilded chair or table, cruel reminders of how beautiful the house must have been. It was hard to tell, the huge pile of rubble in front of us made it impossible for me to draw any conclusions about how it once must have looked like. Some of the rubble was blackened, as if the house had been burnt before it collapsed, and I shuddered in the warm spring sun.

I'd seen too much death and cruelty ever since my return to the magical world, so you'd think by now I should have become used to it. For a reason I couldn't fathom the senseless destruction of Daphne's childhood home got to me. My throat constricted, and there was a sharp pain in the back of it. I gulped against the pain and averted my eyes from the devastation in front of me to have a look at the gardens that surrounded the house.

The fountain at the center of the circular place was still intact and sent glistening, tinkling rays of water into the bright morning. How did it still work, while the house was destroyed?

'Runes,' Daphne answered my unspoken question. 'I told you the Greengrasses always prided themselves on their beautiful gardens. One of my ancestors developed an array of runes that made it possible to preserve the gardens in their impeccable state for a certain amount of time even if there were no elves available to look after them.' She grabbed for my hand; hers was still cold. 'Come on, I'll show you around.'

She led me around the ruins of the house to the park.

From the remains of a terrace that once ran along the back of the house, lush lawns sloped down to a lake in the middle of the park, bordered by colourful flower beds and shrubbery. Beyond the lake the terrain ascended once again. Limestone stairs, probably made of the same stone as the house, led up to a hill that overlooked the park. On top of the hill there was a rotund gazebo.

That was the place where Daphne wanted us to take our magical vows. I gave it another look. The view of the blossoming gardens and the lake from up there had to be breathtaking. The gazebo also offered a spectacular view on the surrounding landscape, Daphne had told me.

She was right, it was perfect - or it would be, as soon as the ruins of the house were gone and we'd built our new home there. I looked down on her to tell her just that.

She stared with eyes so wide I could see the white in them at the rose bushes that grew on both sides of the stairs that led to the remains of the terrace, and her breath came in short, laboured gasps. Her horrified expression took the words right out of my mouth, and I threw my arms around her and held her close. 'Daphne! What has you in such a state?'

She raised a trembling arm, her eyes still fixed on the rose bushes next to the staircase, and pointed to a pile of rubble next to the roses. 'That's where I found him.' Her voice was a mere, hoarse whisper, thick with tears.

Her words hit me right in the gut, and I cringed and tightened my arms around her. I'd never forget the night her mother had died, the long talk we'd had over too much whisky, and her heartbroken sobs when she told me how she'd searched for her father in the ruins of the house and found his mutilated dead body under a heap of rubble. I buried my face in her soft hair. 'I'm so sorry, love. No daughter should have to find her dead father like that.'

She shook her head with a slight hiccup. 'Not my father, I'm talking about Tinky, one of our elves. What these animals did to him…' She gulped, her face contorted, and tears spilled down her face. 'I hoped against hope that my parents had managed to get away. There are many hidden spots in the gardens only the family knows about, some of them under heavy enchantments, so I searched them all, praying I might find Mum and Dad there.' The words now tumbled out of her mouth, and she trembled in my arms.

'The enchantments were gone, on all of them, and I couldn't find my parents anywhere. The last place where I looked was the gardener's hut. The elves used to stash their gardening tools there, and there's a worktable for repotting plants and stuff like that. That's where I found Mum.'

Daphne gasped for breath. 'She hid under the worktable, like a frightened animal. She'd lost her wand, her clothes were torn and her face, arms and legs were bruised. By her dry, cracked lips I could tell she didn't drink for a long time and probably had stayed in her hiding place since before the Battle of Hogwarts. Worst of all were her eyes, so empty and full of fear. When I reached out my hand to help her to get out from under the table, she whimpered and recoiled from me. She didn't recognise me, Harry.'

By now she sobbed and buried her head at my shoulder. I held her in my arms and rocked her gently. What else could I do? Each of her sobs was like another punch into my gut.

It was a long wait until Daphne calmed down. She raised her blotchy face and gave me a forlorn gaze from eyes dark with grief. 'That wasn't the worst part yet.' Her voice was so low I had to bow my head to understand her.

I pushed a strand of her hair out of her face. 'Do you want to talk about it? My wife says it helps. She's a smart woman, you know.'

That earned me the ghost of a smile and a small nod. 'After what seemed like an eternity I'd coaxed Mum to come out of her hiding place. I asked her about Dad. Instead of an answer she threw her head into her neck and cackled with mad laughter. Then she began talking, in such a horrible, sneering voice. _Oh, ain't you a good raggedy doll, Greengrass? Who can throw him higher? Oops, I think that broke your leg.'_ Daphne gulped again, and her lips quivered. 'She repeated those words over and over again. All of a sudden she stopped, swayed on her feet, and then screamed. You can't imagine how horrible that was, Harry, she didn't sound human anymore. _The green light,_ she screamed, _Don't throw the green light at my sweetheart!'_

Daphne leaned against me and took a long, shuddering breath. 'That was the moment I knew my father was already beyond help.'

This time she didn't break down, albeit her heavy breaths were a dead give away how hard she worked to maintain her composure. I kept rocking her in my arms and waited for her to continue to unburden herself of the horrors she'd gone through.

'Mum was my main concern now,' she said at length. 'I Apparated her to St. Mungo's. Two days after the Battle of Hogwarts the hospital resembled a place from hell, and a rather unorganised one. As I found out later, a lot of the staff had been killed by Death Eaters, and quite a few more had gone into hiding and not yet returned, since the news of your defeat of Voldemort had not yet reached everyone. Only a few Pureblood healers and nurses had remained at the hospital, and they had their hands full with those being heavily injured at the Battle of Hogwarts. Mum and I had to wait a long time until a healer looked after her. It was already after midnight, I think. The healer didn't take long for the diagnosis, and didn't mince words with me, either. He just told me she'd been tortured into oblivion by the Torture Curse and would be admitted to the Janus Tickney Ward right away. Then he sent me to the administration to arrange for the payment of Mum's care.'

She let out a harsh laugh. 'The first thing the witch behind the counter asked of me was a down payment, so I went to Gringotts for the necessary arrangements. Well, you already know everything about the financial problems I encountered right after the war, love. There was just enough left in our vault for the down payment, and I spent the rest of the night with our vault manager to find a way to make enough gold to pay for Mum's care.'

Daphne raised her head, a weak smile on her lips that didn't reach her eyes. 'In the opinion of most wizards and witches Goblins are mean little buggers. Only few acknowledge that they value family at least as much as we do. When our vault manager heard what I was trying to do for Mum, he went out of his way helping me to develop a business plan for our struggling company and find new sources of income. Out of his way for a Goblin, that is.'

'Good for him.'

'Well, I surely won't forget that in the future, so his kindness hopefully will pay off.' This time, the small smile on her face was genuine.

It was gone the next second.

'I went to the Auror Department next to report what had happened. The department was in an uproar after Voldemort's downfall, all Aurors were either at Hogwarts or busy with catching Snatchers or rounding up the many collaborators in the Ministry.' Something like a grin flickered across her face. 'They brought Umbridge in while I waited.'

'Good!' I didn't bother to keep the deep satisfaction out of my voice.

'Again, I had to wait for hours. When finally an Auror had time for me, all he could do was recording the crime and tell me they'd look into it as soon as they had the time and the manpower to spare. I guess in the first days after the battle the Aurors had more important things to care for. In a way, I understood, yet I was hurt they deemed the death of my father and the torture of my mother unimportant.' She raised her hand and wiped her eyes.

Her grief broke my heart, yet words failed me. What are you supposed to say in a situation like this? Are there even adequate words?

Daphne didn't seem to expect a response from me. Her eyes fixed on a point in the distance, she remembered the events of that horrible day.

'Even though I didn't get a wink of sleep that night, I was as hyper as a wind-up toy. So I decided to Apparate to _Grenian House_ and search for Dad's body.'

I sucked in a sharp breath and pulled her tighter in an involuntarily motion. 'You could have Splinched yourself.'

'Maybe.' She shrugged her shoulders. 'I didn't care back then. It was as if my feelings were locked away behind a strong wall. I had things to do, and my body just functioned to get them completed. I began digging in the rubble for Dad. First I found the second elf.' She gulped and her face became a shade paler as she recalled her memories. 'He must have tried to defend Dad, his mangled body almost wasn't recognisable as that of an elf.'

She'd been in shock, and probably also on an adrenaline high. Nobody had been there to take care of her… My throat tightened, and I had difficulties to swallow. I dropped a kiss in her hair. 'I know what you mean, love.' I really did, I'd been like that the morning right after Voldemort's death.

'Dad's body was not far from there, hidden in the rubble. I suppose they let a part of the house collapse on his body. If I can trust Mum's disjointed memories, he was killed with the Killing Curse. However, there was so much blood…' Her voice faltered. 'I only hope he didn't have to suffer as much as my imagination fills in the blanks,' she whispered.

Again, I was at a loss for words. 'You'll probably never know, love. Sometimes it's better just to let go, or you'll get crazy.'

Daphne nodded against my shoulder. 'You have a point there.' She raised her head and looked at me. Her eyes were red-rimmed and dark with grief. 'I had to bury him, but there was nobody to help me. I didn't have the money to hire a funeral director, either, so...'

My mouth became dry. She hadn't to, had she? I tightened my embrace. 'Don't tell me you had to bury your father all by yourself.'

'I wrapped his body into a torn curtain I found within the rubble and levitated him to the family graveyard at the other side of the park. There I dug a grave for him, next to grandfather's. First I used a shovel, but my strength soon gave out and I had to do it by magic. I levitated his body into the grave, then closed it. My last memory is that I put a rose on the mound before everything became dark.'

Her face scrunched up, the next moment tears spilled down her face, and she broke down in my arms and cried for a long time.

I held her, waited until she'd cried herself dry, and wished I could take the pain for her instead, albeit I knew from my own experience after Sirius' death that she had to go through the pain to find closure.

I have no idea how long it took until her sobs turned into hiccups and then faded out. At length, she let out a long, shuddering breath. Her eyes were swollen from all the crying she'd done. She gave me a shy side glance. 'Will you visit Dad's grave with me?'

Instead of an answer, I held my hand out to her. Together, we walked through the blossoming park until we reached a high brick wall at the other end. A kissing gate marked the entrance to the family graveyard.

'It's enchanted and will only open for family members and their spouses. Watch.' Daphne raised her wand and drew a complicated pattern across the lock. The gate opened, and we entered.

The graveyard was like a quieter extension of the park. Ancient oak trees gave a pleasant shade; large bushes of rhododendrons in full bloom separated the graves, an ocean of red and purple, interspersed with white. Every kind of spring flower I'd ever heard of adorned the graves, and the fragrance of lilies in the field, mixed wit lilac, reached my nose.

Daphne led me to a grave near the end of the graveyard. Compared to the other graves it was rather plain. Daphne had had other things on her plate than decorating the grave of her father.

She squeezed my hand and gave me a small smile as she led me to the grave.

'Dad, I like you to meet my husband Harry. I think you both would have hit it off with each other.' Her voice quivered slightly at the last words.

I looked down on her. 'Tell me about your father.'

Her face lit up, and I exhaled. That seemed to have been the right question.

'I already told you that Dad was raised in British Pureblood tradition and didn't know much about Muggles, while Mum was from the U.S.A. and way better adapted to Muggle life because of them strictly keeping the Statute of Secrecy over there. The Obliviator Squad is the last means for them, not the rule to deal with incidents, like it's the case here. Quite a lot of things Mum was used to and took for granted scandalised poor Dad. Take the pond, for example. Until my parent's wedding it was just a decorative item of the park. Mum, however, was used to her daily swimming exercises. When she swam in the pond in her scandalously skimpy Muggle bathing suit for the first time after their marriage, my grandmother almost fainted with shock and my grandfather gave Dad an earful about how to rein in his bride.'

I laughed out loud at that. The Weasleys had a nicely sized pond at _The Burrow,_ but not even during the hottest summer days I spent there one of them would've thought in their wildest dreams of going swimming there. 'I imagine. What did your dad do?'

'He told my grandparents to mind their own business. Then he made sure there were no Grindylows in the pond, and with the help of our elves he cast some rather clever Weather Charms on the pond so that Mum and later I could use it almost all year long.' She scrunched up her nose in that adorable way of hers. 'Albeit it was still butt-freezing cold in winter.'

The small Americanism didn't escape me. She never realised when she used them, yet it was one of the things about her that made her stand out among British magical girls and made me adore her even more, if that was possible. I tightened my arm around her shoulders. 'I suppose we can do something about that when we rebuild the house, maybe ask the Goblins to have a pool in the basement, too, so you don't have to go outside when the weather is really nasty. After all, Weather Charms can only do so much.'

A genuine smile flickered across her face. 'That would be awesome.' She leaned against me. 'Dad always did fun things with me. When I was a small girl, he used to read goodnight stories to me. He was the one who gave me my first broom and showed me how to ride it. However, he was also the one who introduced me to my family history and taught me the things I needed to know to take my place as his successor at Greengrass Shipping and on the Wizengamot.'

She gave a small laugh. 'The funny thing is, it never occured to me that he was teaching me. He'd tell me fascinating stories about our ancestors, and he took me with him when he went to work, and later to the Wizengamot. The many things I learned only from watching him…'

Her voice trailed off as she lost herself in her memories, and a soft smile played around her lips.

My heart constricted; her parents must have been wonderful people, their gruesome dismissal from this world must have left a huge gap in her heart. Would I ever be able to fill that hole?

She looked up to me. 'In many ways you are like Dad, you know.'

I raised my eyebrow at her; that was unexpected. 'Is that so?'

She nodded. 'You are gentle, yet determined, just like Dad. I'm sure you would've got along great. It's so sad Mum and Dad never met you, they would've loved you, especially when they saw how happy you make me.'

Fresh tears welled up in her eyes, she buried her head into my shoulder, and I held her and caressed her back through another bout of grief.

At last she looked up at me with red-rimmed eyes. 'I think I'm ready to go home, Harry.'

My heart gave a little skip, and my mouth curved into a smile. Home, she had said; even though we were standing on the grounds of her childhood home that was now hers, she considered the house on Grimmauld Place as her, no, our home. I almost skipped as I led her back into the park.

As the kissing gate to the graveyard closed behind us, we had a good look at the ruins of the house.

Again, pain flickered across Daphne's face, and she averted her eyes from the sight.

'Tell me about the house and how you want to rebuild it,' I said as we walked back to the Apparition Point.

Her face lit up at my question. 'It was rather small, compared to other wizarding houses I know, the houses of the Notts and the Malfoys are much bigger. However, our house was not as dark as theirs, it was a happy family home and not a showroom, you know?'

I nodded to that. Malfoy Manor surely didn't have the feel of a cozy family home during the one visit I'd paid there.

'One of my ancestors built the house at the end of the eighteenth century on the site of a much older house. Our family grimoire says that Greengrasses lived on this land already before the times of the Norman conquest. He was partial to the Georgian style, so the house was set up very symmetrical. Right off the entrance was Dad's study, and opposite of that our library. Ahead on the ground floor were the formal dining room and the drawing room. My great-grandmother added a separate wing with a kitchen and a breakfast room, an informal sitting room and a laundry room. My grandmother later added a conservatory to the family room with huge French doors that gave us immediate access to the garden. Our family life took place in that side wing, the formal rooms were used for business meetings and entertaining guests.'

'It must have been a lovely house.'

'It was,' she said with a deep sigh. 'The bedrooms were upstairs, with the master bedroom looking over the gardens. It had a small sitting room attached to it, for the lady of the house, and of course an ensuite bathroom and a dressing room. Opposite of the master bedroom, with the grand staircase between them, was a guest suite with the same layout. An open sitting area connected the main house with the bedrooms over the kitchen wing. There were another four of them, each with its own bathroom, for family members. On the second floor there were another four rather formal guestrooms, and then came the attic with the elve's quarters.'

I hugged her towards me. 'You'll rebuild it as it was.'

Daphne didn't answer at once and tilted her head to the side as if contemplating my words. 'I don't think so,' she said at length. 'I think I'll keep the general floor plan and the classical style, but I want to adapt the floor plan to modern times, with a breakfast nook attached to the kitchen instead of a breakfast room, and opening into the family room instead of an informal sitting room. I also want to add modern features, like electricity, telephone and such. Mum always complained that she was out of touch with her Muggle friends from school because we didn't have a telephone.'

'Is that even possible? I've always been told that electric appliances go haywire when close to magic.'

She rolled her eyes. 'That's a load of dragon dung, a blatant lie conservative wizards and witches here in Britain perpetuate to keep our world from changing. Yes, too much magic _can_ interfere with electric appliances, in Hogwarts no normal cd player would work because of the amount of magic there. Even the amount of magic in the average magical household would interfere, but there are ways around that, just take a look at the homes of wizards and witches in the U.S.A. and you'd know. You can either mimic Muggle appliances on the outside and have them work on magic, like its done with the Hogwarts Express, or you can modify Muggle appliances so that they'll work even in high magical surroundings. The latter option is the norm in most magical houses in the U.S.A., because it allows you to blend in seamlessly and use Muggle ways of communication.'

'Wow, I had no idea that's possible. You mean we'll be able to have a computer and a telly?' I grinned.

'That, and a telephone and mobile phones, too, electric light in all the rooms instead of magical gas lamps, and of course a decent stereo.'

I let out a wistful sigh. 'That sounds too good to be true.' While I'd happily turned my back on a Muggle world where I'd experienced nothing but abuse and neglect during my whole childhood, there was no denying that during our cruise I'd enjoyed the comforts of live most Muggles took for granted. I'd love to have a computer, but -

'Where will we get that stuff? I never saw a shop in Diagon Alley that advertised Muggle appliances.'

My wife scrunched up her nose. 'That's because there aren't any. There are a few magical businesses in the U.S.A. that sell ready made magically protected Muggle appliances, or we could hire a Charms master or mistress specialised in that area who will modify the Muggle appliances we agreed on with protection charms. I'd prefer the latter, this way we can have a custom made kitchen.'

I snorted at that. 'Since when are you interested in kitchens?'

She looked up at me with an impish smile. 'Oh, I'm not, but I think my husband, the master cook, will be delighted to have a kitchen with all the bells and whistles. I'll settle for a swimming pool in the basement, with jacuzzi, of course.'

We were still laughing when we reached the driveway in front of the ruins of the house.

Daphne stopped and raised her arm as if to point out something to me, when the cracking sounds of multiple wizards and witches Apparating in made her freeze.

My wand was in my hand in an instant and I cast a wide-area disarming spell.

Four wands soared towards us and clattered to the ground, while I still trained my wand on the new arrivals.

'Whoa, hold your Hippogriffs, Potter!' Nott let go of Tracey's arm and held his hands up.

Tracey glared at me. 'What are you doing there, Harry?'

Besides them, Melissa and Matthew just gaped.

Matt gave me a broad grin. 'Wicked! Will you teach me how to do that, Harry?'

Heat shot into my face. 'Oops!'

Daphne looked at her relatives, then at me.

I gave her what must have been a rather sheepish smile.

Her mouth twitched, the next moment, she broke out into laughter, and Matt joined her. The other four shared an uneasy glance, then something seemed to bubble up in Matthew, and he laughed as hard as his son. Melissa, Tracey and Nott followed suit.

My heart hammered, sweat broke out all over my body, and I easily withstood their hilarity. What if I'd decided on a more offensive curse as a reaction to their sudden Apparition? Merlin, I could have sent Daphne's only remaining family to St. Mungo's - or worse.

I bent down to collect their wands and to hide my horror about my rash action.

'I'm sorry,' I said, and held the wands out to them. 'I have no idea what got into me.'

Matthew dismissed my excuse with a wave of his hand. 'Don't think about it, Harry. We startled you, and you reacted as you've been trained during the war.'

'Yeah, we really can't blame you for your reaction, considering…' Tracey's voice trailed off, her eyes became huge, and she paled and grabbed for her fiancé's hand as she took in the ruins of the once proud house.

Nott put a comforting arm around her shoulder and gave me a weak grin. 'I guess we're lucky that your trademark spell is the disarming spell and nothing worse, Potter. You surely have an amazing amount of power at your hands.'

The heat in my cheeks intensified, and I looked to the ground.

Daphne gave me a small, understanding hug, then let go of me and walked over to Melissa, who stood rooted to the spot, a hand pressed to her mouth, and stared at the ruins of the house.

The two women exchanged a fierce hug and had a whispered conversation.

My manners finally kicked in, and I went over to greet Daphne's family, and to apologise once more. They were gracious enough to let it drop.

Melissa and Daphne ended their quiet exchange, and Melissa walked towards me to give me a hug. 'We've come to pay our respects to Cyrus,' she said.

Daphne smiled. 'That's very considerate of you, cousin Melissa, and Harry and I appreciate it a lot. Come on, I'll show you to his grave.' She hooked her arm around Melissa's and walked with her towards the family graveyard.

Thankfully, Melissa kept their visit to Cyrus' grave short and had the good sense not to stir up Daphne's memories of her father's death once again. When we walked back to the Apparition point, she and Daphne had an animated talk about the rebuilding of the house, with Tracey throwing in her two Knuts every now and then.

I contemplated my wife's face as I walked beside her. Her eyes had lost the haunted expression, and some colour had returned into her cheeks during her talk to Melissa. There was no denying that she was thankful for Melissa's gesture of respect to her father and enjoyed the company of the Davises.

Daphne needed her family today, maybe more than she needed me.

My decision was made up when we reached the Apparition point. 'Would you and your family like to join us for lunch?' I asked Melissa.

Daphne's head jerked towards me, and she gave me a broad smile. 'Yes, please do!' She squeezed Melissa's arm.

Melissa exchanged a short look with her husband and her daughter and future son-in-law. At their encouraging nods she turned to Daphne and me and said, 'We'd love to!'

Daphne and I Apparated the Davises and Nott to Grimmauld Place, and I gave them access to the house.

As the house materialised in front of them, Nott let out a low whistle. 'You don't do things halfways, do you, Potter? That's one wicked combination of an Unplottable Charm with a Fidelius Charm.'

My face warmed up at his praise. 'I had help with that, Professor Flitwick showed me how to do it. I wouldn't feel comfortable in the house without that extra layer of protection.'

'I imagine.' Nott grimaced. 'There are still too many Death Eaters out there. I guess none of us will be at ease until the last of them is dealt with.'

I pressed my lips together not to utter the exclamation of surprise that threatened to escape me at Nott's words. His sentiment was unexpected, to say the least. After all, his father was among the Death Eaters who had been captured during the Battle of Hogwarts and now waited in Azkaban for his trial that would begin soon, and Nott had been a part of Malfoy's little band of sycophants at Hogwarts. Yet, according to Daphne, he had changed his ways when he fell in love with Tracey. Come to think of it, the few remarks he'd made about his father the day we arrived back in England had been rather bitter and didn't speak of a loving relationship.

As if he'd sensed my thoughts, Nott gave me a tight-lipped grin that didn't reach his eyes. 'Believe me, I hate them as much as anybody, Potter. I'll be forever thankful you ended it, or by now I would've been forced to become one of them.'

He looked down on the ground, and Tracey flung her arms around him and whispered something into his ear that had him relax.

We entered the house. Kreacher was over the moon when he discovered we had invited guests, and Apparated back into the kitchen to prepare a feast.

Daphne led our guests downstairs to the family room. 'You'll have to contend with lunch in the kitchen for today, the dining room is still waiting for new furniture, as are most rooms of the house. Harry and I are going to furnish the house during summer.'

Nott gave an appreciative look around as he sat down in the love seat, Tracey beside him. 'I'm amazed the house looks this good already. I had the misfortune to have to listen to the bragging of the posse of Death Eaters who'd been sent out to destroy Harry Potter's hiding place. According to them, the place was in shambles when they were finished.'

'I was; don't tell them, but actually they did me a favour with that,' I said.

'What!? You're taking the mickey!'

I laughed and shook my head. 'You have no idea how the house looked before, full of dark artefacts, teeming with magical vermin, and more than one room cursed up to the rafters. The Death Eaters took care of that, they stole most of the dark artefacts and cast so much magic around that the vermin was killed and the curses broke down. All I had to do when I returned was to clear away the rubble and start from scratch.'

Our guests had a good laugh about that, Nott laughed the hardest of all. 'I can't wait to tell my father when I'm obliged to visit him. Merlin, will he be miffed!'

That had us laughing even more.

From there, our conversation turned back to Daphne's parents. Nott and I listened while the Davises and Daphne reminisced about the past.

'Do you remember the time when your kitten climbed up that oak in your park and refused to come down?' Tracey asked. 'You climbed after it, and the moment you reached it the kitten climbed down, but then you realised how high up in the tree you were and didn't dare to go back. I had to get Uncle Cyrus for help.'

'Do I remember!' Daphne's eyes lit up at the memory, and laughter bubbled up in her. 'Dad Apparated me from the tree. Merlin, was he angry! I was grounded for the rest of the day because of my foolishness.' She grimaced, but laughed nevertheless.

I couldn't get enough of the happiness on her face, it was such a relief after I had to watch her devastation at her father's grave.

Kreacher called us to lunch, and over the meal we talked about other topics. The furnishing and decoration of Grimmauld Place was high on the list, as were Tracey's and Nott's upcoming nuptials.

'We've finally set a date,' Tracey said. 'The wedding will take place on the twelfth of June in our backyard.' She turned towards Daphne. 'Do you want to be my maid of honour?'

Daphne shrieked with delight. 'I'd love to!'

The next moment she and Tracey were in a deep discussion about dresses, the appropriate colours, shoes, and Merlin knows what else a maid of honour needs to stand up with the bride.

Nott and I shared a look, laughed, and rolled our eyes, although we both were careful not to attract the attention of our significant others.

Matthew sniggered into his glass, while his wife shook her head at us, albeit the corners of her mouth twitched.

Melissa waited until the excitement of the girls had cooled down somewhat, and then added another piece of information about the upcoming nuptials. 'We'll have the customary reception of the parents of the bride in honour of the young couple this month on the fifteenth. I hope you'll attend, Daphne and Harry.'

My wife accepted the invitation on the behalf of both of us, while I still pondered Melissa's words.

The "customary reception", Melissa had said. So, there were certain customs that had to be kept in preparation of an upcoming wedding in the wizarding world. I had no idea about that, this point hadn't come up when I stayed at the Burrow before Bill's and Fleur's wedding. Then again, Fleur's parents lived in France, maybe they had other customs there? Or maybe the reception took place a short time after their engagement in the summer before my sixth year, while I was still grounded at the Dursleys?

Anyway, Melissa's words shed some light on Mrs Longbottom's reluctance to accept Hermione as Neville's bride. The Grangers were still in Australia and had no idea they had a daughter, so they couldn't play the part that was expected from them by the magical society. And there was even more, according to Daphne Hermione needed someone beside her to negotiate for her and sign the contract. That she didn't have any family made her a nobody in magical society, and that reflected badly on the Longbottoms.

My stomach gave a sudden lurch. What if -

Melissa's hand on my arm caught my attention.

I startled, pulled myself together, and smiled at her. 'Sorry, I was woolgathering.'

'That was obvious.' She laughed and motioned towards her daughter. 'Tracey asked something.'

'Sorry, Tracey. Can I help you?'

'Actually, yes,' she said with a nervous little laugh. 'You and Daphne were kind enough to offer Theo and me to join you in your private lessons for the N.E.W.T.s. I wanted to know when we will start.'

'I'm glad you reminded me,' I said to help her over her embarrassment. 'Daphne and I talked to Headmistress McGonagall the other day, and she kindly offered to tutor us, together with Professor Flitwick, Professor Slughorn, and Professor Sprout, although my friend Hermione, who will be a master student next year, will step in quite a lot for Headmistress McGonagall.'

Daphne put down her cutlery and dabbed her mouth. 'She also told us that our lessons would be erratic, so we'll need to do a lot of self study. I hope that isn't a problem for you? After all, Theo will be working for his family business beside his studies, as will Harry and I.'

'No, that suits us very well, Daphne.' Nott said. 'Where will the lessons take place?'

'At Hogwarts,' I said. 'It's more comfortable for the professors that way.'

'So we will have to Apparate there, or will Headmistress McGonagall give us Floo access?' Tracey asced.

I lowered the glass in my hand. 'Actually, she offered us rooms there, in the guest wing. Daphne and I will have an apartment of our own, as will you and Nott, as soon as you're married. Oh, and Hermione will also live there, and my friend Neville Longbottom. He's working for a mastery in Herbology.'

Tracey's face lit up at that, and she turned towards her fiancé. 'That means we won't have to look for a house yet, Theo.'

'Yeah, one thing less to worry about.' He smiled at her. 'With our wedding on such short notice we have our hands full.'

Melissa frowned at that. 'I wish you both wouldn't insist on getting married so soon after your engagement. It will sure cause some raised eyebrows and indelicate questions.'

Nott choked on his butterbeer, and Tracey turned beet red. 'Muuum!'

Daphne smirked, and I dabbed my mouth to hide my grin.

Melissa turned towards me. 'Not to mention the gossip about you and Daphne!'

I shrugged. 'People will gossip about me, no matter whether I give them a reason or not. I've learned to ignore them.'

'I don't care, either,' Daphne said, and jutted her chin out.

Melissa pressed her lips together and looked as if she had to say a lot about that, but had the good sense not to press the matter.

We had coffee in the family room. Daphne and Tracey talked some more about the wedding preparations and agreed to meet on Monday after Veterans Ball to shop for dresses. Our guests took their leave not long after that.

I let out a deep breath when the door had closed behind them. No matter how nice and diverting lunch with the Davises and Nott had been, the day had been emotionally exhausting, and I was glad we could unwind at last.

We returned to the family room. It was a beautiful spring day, and the sun shining through the bow window beckoned us to go outside.

Daphne opened the French doors, stepped out onto the sunken patio, and took a critical look at the long, narrow stretch of unkempt garden in front of her.

I put my arm around her shoulder. 'What do you think of it?'

She scrunched up her nose. 'You're right, there's a lot of work to be done here. Do you think we'll have time for that besides rebuilding _Grenian House?'_

'Well, we won't do the rebuilding all by ourselves, we'll hire a contractor for that. We can do the same with the garden, get a general idea what we want, and then hire someone to do the actual work. That way we'll get both done and have time enough to furnish the house, too. Although I guess that furnishing the house should take precedence above anything else.'

My wife gave me a shrewd side glance. 'What makes you think so?'

I chuckled. 'Come off, love, do you still think I don't know how your mind works after all these months? I knew right away you wanted me to do something when we talked about Hermione yesterday, it just took me some time to figure out what I was supposed to do, but I think now I've got it, or at least I'm close. It's got to do with Hermione having no family that can perform the customary social duties that come with the wedding, am I right?'

Daphne raised on her tiptoes and gave me a peck on the cheek. 'I knew you'd figure it out, Harry.'

I puffed out my chest, and she laughed.

'All right, I get it, since Hermione's parents can't be there for her, she needs someone else to stand by her side. That leaves only me, I guess, Hermione never had any friends besides Ron and me. I suppose we'll have to step in with the customary reception of the parents of the bride?'

She nodded. 'Yes, although due to the circumstances it doesn't need to be a big affair. A formal dinner in celebration of the engagement will do. Of course you'll have to inform the _Daily Prophet_ about that.'

'What?!'

'That's the whole point of it, love, to let the magical world know that the two families met and both sides approve of the union.'

'What a load of dragon dung!' I groaned.

'I never said it wasn't. However, that's the way the magical society is, and by now you should know you'll have to work from inside the system to bring about change, or haven't I taught you anything?' As always, my wife had little to no sympathies for my complaints about social demands.

I sighed. 'All right, a reception and an announcement in the _Daily Prophet_. Anything else?'

She bit her lip. 'Well, you'll basically have to act as her honorary brother.'

'You mean, giving the bride away? But they won't exchange vows, at least not yet, they'll probably have a contract first.' Another thought hit me, and my stomach dropped. 'It means I'll have to negotiate the contract with Neville, doesn't it?'

Daphne let go of her lower lip and nodded.

I groaned again and rubbed my face with my free hand. 'Do you have an idea how weird it will be to talk with my former housemate about that? And what Hermione will have to say if she finds out she's treated like a piece of merchandise? At least there isn't a dowry involved, or she will kill me.'

'Actually, there is.'

My head jerked around to my wife. 'What?! You're taking the mickey, aren't you? Merlin, Daph, I had no idea you planned on becoming a widow so soon after our wedding!'

She chuckled and held up her hand. 'Hear me out, Harry, before you fly off the handle. The concept of a dowry might seem old fashioned to you, but you'll have to bear in mind that the wizarding world has no security system like the Muggle world. There is no health insurance, unless you're at Hogwarts and the school will provide for that, or an employee of the Ministry; we have no retirement funds, and no provisions for widows and orphans. The families are supposed to take care of their own. The dowry, as out of date it may seem to you, will provide for Hermione and their children in case something happens to Neville, or if the marriage is dissolved, as they, or rather Hermione, are planning.'

'Hmmm,' was all I said to the latter statement.

'Exactly.' Daphne chuckled. 'We'll have to wait and see where they are heading. In the meantime, as Hermione's honorary brother, you'll have to make sure that her rights are observed, for Hermione as surely as Merlin was a wizard will refuse to take anything from Neville.'

I let go of her, sat down on the steps that led to the garden, and looked up at her. 'What does that entail?'

'Well, it's custom for the groom to transfer the dowry back to the bride and add to that from his own coffers. In case of the head or heir to an old and rich family he'll even provide housing for her and the younger children, because she'll have to move out of the main seat to make room for him and his family.' She sat down beside me. 'That's what you'll have to negotiate with Neville. While the Longbottoms are an old family, they are merely wealthy, not rich. Most of their income comes from farmland up in Yorkshire. I imagine the care for Neville's parents doesn't come cheap, so I doubt there's much left in the Longbottom vault.'

I propped my elbow up on my knee and cupped my chin with my hand. 'So, I'll have to find a way to make sure to provide for Hermione and the baby without offending her and Neville's sensibilities? Thank you very much, my love, I think bringing down Voldemort was easier.'

Daphne laughed. 'Don't be such a drama queen, sweetheart. You know that it is custom, after all you made provisions for me.'

'That's different, you are my wife, so of course I'll make provisions for you. I'd be a fine husband if I didn't. Hermione and Neville, however, are my friends, and that makes the situation awkward.'

'You don't have to worry about Neville, he grew up in the magical world and will understand. I'd say he'll be thankful that you're going to provide the right background for his future wife, so that she won't be shunned by Mrs Longbottom's friends. Don't delude yourself, the amount of Hermione's dowry will get out, it's the first thing the old hags will sniff out. So, it's only Hermione you have to worry about.' She gave my arm a consoling pat.

'Only, she says!' I groaned and palmed my face with my hands. I lowered them and gave her a mock-glare. 'You know, I have a good mind to send you to Hermione and bring her the tidings.'

Daphne tilted her head and grinned up at me. 'Who would've thought that the great Harry Potter is such a wimp when it comes to standing up to his best friend.' She leaned closer and gave me a peck on the lips. 'Don't be afraid of mean, big Hermione, my love, I will protect you.'

t.b.c.


End file.
